


Of Ghosts and Valkyries

by Furiyan



Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: A sprinkling of fantasy, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark, F/M, It's plot related so don't freak out, Mild Jastrid in Ch12 and 14, More tags will be added later, Science Fiction, Smut, Swearing, Violence, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 49
Words: 450,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furiyan/pseuds/Furiyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2073 and the Ghosts have a tough time ahead, what with the threat of the Valkyries, a team specifically designed to hunt them down. In a crapsack world where family is meaningless and love is a thing of the past, each day that Jack survives is a victory. Besides, he'd rather have ammo and someone to watch his six than a kiss. Rated M for cursing, violence and adult stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Fire-Weaver

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there...so this is the prologue to my next fanfic, which I'll start updating when Cold to the Touch is finished. I wanted to try something different and on a bigger scale. Twists and turns are abound in this fic. 
> 
> Also, I sometimes get inspiration from pieces of music that I'm listening to, for example part of this chapter was inspired by "Lemurian Star" from the Captain America - The Winter Soldier OST.
> 
> Needless to say, the RoTG cast belong to Dreamworks and the Disney cast belong to...well...Disney.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> 02/04/2015: Complete re-edit of the prologue to put it into the same tense as further chapters. I also changed Elsa and Anna's surname to Snowfield, put the time period forward by twenty years and bulked up certain paragraphs that were in dire need.

_Location: New Burgess  
Date: July 9_ _th_ _, 2070_  
Time: 19:36

 

He hated this city and everything it stood for…both levels of it.

Perfectly balanced on one of the myriad Unity communications antennae that was horizontally protruding from the monolithic southern support column designed to hold up the upper level of the city, he forced down the contempt and bile in his throat as he scanned every inch of the streets below him. It was dark – but then again, with the upper level blocking out most of the sun's life-giving splendour, it was  _always_ dark – though people are astoundingly resilient.

That, or astoundingly stupid, he's not sure which.

With the lower half of New Burgess dwelling in almost perpetual shadow, the environment was cold, overwhelming and rank. The inhabitants that lived there – those that could afford to live in the ramshackle buildings they called home – are pale and sunken, their moods sullen and stand-offish. A classic sign of Vit-D deficiency which was a widespread symptom of the impoverished yet indoctrinated people.

Yet, the people clung to the propagandised messages of Unity like it was their guiding star. Half of them couldn't afford to eat well and the other half couldn't afford basic utilities, yet they all attended Unity _-_ mandated schools, Unity _-_ sponsored events and watched Unity-endorsed television. Soul-sucking, mind-numbing messages that eroded free will and encouraged collective thought.

It was even worse if you were an abnormal, like the man on the support column…because then you were the  _enemy,_  the glitch in the system, the unforeseen variable in the equation, the seditious element that must be crushed.

You were the one with the powers, and  _they_  didn't like that.

" _Sitrep."_

The gruff voice resonated through his ear like an earthquake, and the man re-adjusted his earpiece with a heavy wince. He had been so wrapped up in thought; he nearly lost his precarious footing with the sudden sound. He knew the voice belonged to his squad-leader Harvester, and judging by the 'request' for an update, he hadn't found anything either.

"Nothing yet. Still looking."

Repeats of the same followed the man's answer, in two different voices. He wasn't surprised – New Burgess is a titanic city with tens of millions of people on both levels, so searching for  _one_  person would be like a needle in a haystack, surrounded by thousands of other haystacks. The odds should have been impossible.

Sometimes, though, fate lends a hand to even the playing field.

The man decided that his eyesight alone wasn't enough, that while he was looking for the specific signs that would lead him to the person they're searching for, the lack of light in the lower level in addition to the steam occasionally venting from above him in a loud, ear-splitting hiss screwed with his vigilance.

"Baby Tooth? Can you give me infra-red?"

The quiet twitter in his ears responded brightly and affirmatively, and the goggles over his eyes flickered from clear, unobstructed vision to a mass of red, green, yellow and blue hues. For a brief second, he was disoriented by the stark visual change, but after a few years he had become more than used to it – and for the person he and his team were searching for, it was necessary.

Harvester and his squad-mates had been in New Burgess, in the heart of the enemy for some time. Rumours and reports had reached their ears of a warehouse burning to the ground in the western district of the lower half, and in a city where 'peace' reigned supreme, something like that was definitely out of place.

The man knew who they're looking for – not their name, but what they were – someone like him and the rest of his squad. Warehouses weren't likely to spontaneously catch fire in this day and age, and they'd been doing this long enough to know that this is a  _Bloom Event_ , where someone had involuntarily taken the first step on the short-lived road of life as an abnormal. They were also seasoned enough to deduce precisely  _what_  to look for – someone who could create and manipulate fire, and was probably so freaked out that they are having a hard time controlling their powers…

…this meant an elevated core body temperature far beyond the norm, hence the infra-red.

" _Sound off and location."_

Harvester did this, sometimes. Their squad was so small that the loss of even one person is catastrophic, thus every hour or so he requested a  _'sound off'_  so he could keep tabs on everyone. It was like being at school all over again, hearing your name being called from the register, but the man on the column understood why he did it.

Names echoed in his ear piece with varying levels of calmness. Night Fury, for example, spoke with a barely concealed tone of worry. He was a man that disliked violence and death, though was starkly aware that sometimes it is necessary. That's why he was the techie of the group, and when he rode Toothless as he was undoubtedly doing so at that precise moment, he was the shock-and-awe of the group along with their exfiltration plan. The man on the column guessed that Night Fury was circling the city, low enough that the city's sensors couldn't pick him up, and the colour of Toothless blending them perfectly into the blanket of night so spotting them would have been impossible.

One name hadn't been spoken, and for a moment Harvester sounded pretty anxious. He repeated the name Pitch like it was a mantra, his volume and sharpness increasing with each utterance until finally, the English accent only associated with one person radiated from the earpiece, and there is an almost audible sigh of relief.

" _I'm here. There's been a…an incident nearby."_

Harvester sounded even more concerned at that. Pitch was ordered to watch the upper level of the city for disturbances, in case the person they were looking for decided to flee and hide there.

" _Report."_

" _Three men just turned a car into Swiss cheese. I can't clearly see the driver or the passenger, but they look dead. The shooters are still here, though I can barely make them out. Shall I intervene?"_

Typical Pitch. If there was a fight, or even the vague notion that one might start, he was always the first to get involved. He wasn't a brawler, someone who liked to get into the thick of it for the joy of a good scuffle…he just loved violence. Sometimes, a little too much.

" _Negative. Get out of there."_

" _Yes, sir…"_

The almost dejected tone to Pitch's voice amused the man, but Harvester's order made perfect sense. Just like the warehouse, a shooting in the upper levels of all places was bound to attract attention from the Unity police and the clone soldiers, so the farther away that Pitch was from the situation, the better…even if he would love nothing more than to reduce each clone to their constituent parts.

Then, as it always did, came the time for the man on the column to sound off, but he didn't. He kept silent, and gripped another antenna above him so he could lean forward, using the dense metal to support his weight. Anyone else would probably have felt extremely faint at the dizzying height, but the man was so comfortable with being so far above ground that it almost felt like home.

He didn't respond as he saw something on the street below; a brighter speck of red, moving quickly down the main street that cut the lower city in half. This person was clever, he noted, as they tried to blend in with the crowds of yellow moving to and fro. The problem however, was if his squad knew what to look for, then Unity did too. Hiding in plain sight can only get you so far.

Sometimes you had to be invisible.

The worried echoes of his name in his earpiece started to get extremely irritating, and before he knew it a terse, angry response escaped his lips.

"Shut up. I've got something."

The red speck seemed to have picked up the pace, and was hurrying towards the southern circumference of the lower city. Whoever this person was, they were probably scared and alone, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people bustling past them and just wanted to find a place to hide. Maybe to take their chances that  _Unity_  wouldn't find them and take them away.

" _Location?"_

"Main Street, moving quickly. Destination unknown. Shadow and observe?"

" _Affirmative. Stay frosty."_

The man chuckled in amusement at the phrase. He knew it meant ' _stay alert_ ', but he didn't miss the coincidental use.

"Always do."

What came next was his favourite part of any mission he and the rest of his squad would undergo. His left hand relinquished the grip on the antenna and reached over to his right wrist, around which was wrapped a hard-wearing bracer, with an eight-inch long metal rod sat contentedly in a socket along the material. As he unclipped the rod, he pressed a button and with a metallic  _shink_ , the eight-inch rod became a six-foot, shiny black staff. Every time he used it, he silently said his thanks to Night Fury for the staff's creation.

Straightening up, he rolled his shoulders, set his goggles back to normal vision and allowed himself to fall backwards off the antenna in a graceful dive. That was what he loved to do, and he knew he didn't do it enough. The rushing of the air past his face, the lurching of his stomach at the sudden change of velocity and direction but more importantly, the feeling of being able to  _fly_. Flickering lights on the support column vertically shot across his vision, and as the ground rushed to meet him he decided that it was  _probably_  a good time to pull up and level off. The wind echoed his thoughts, and as though an invisible hand braced his chest it gently pushed him up from a vertical dive to a steep ascent, his stomach angrily threatening to vacate the premises as it happened.

As he soared above the lower city he noticed a building with a better view of the huge street below him, with the dim and dingy lights illuminating the nexus of pedestrian traffic. Flying over and landing on corner of the roof closest to the street he crouches and sets his goggles back to infra-red, turning his head from left to right in an effort to re-acquire the objective.

The person disappeared, leaving only a sea of yellow figures that greeted his eyes like an assault on the visual cortex.

"Fuck." he hissed, angry that in the seconds it took for him to fall off the antenna and fly to this building, he lost the target. Whipping his head left and right with agitated panic, his stomach lurched for an entirely different reason...this person must be scared and alone, and he refused to let them down.

Spotting a building on the other side, he tensed his legs and prepared to leap over to it for a better look, but a sound from far, far above him gave him pause. As he craned his head up, he felt the flash of fear as a sea of blue and black hues covered his vision...

...except for four bright red, circular lights evenly spaced in a rectangle, descending from a hatch in the city ceiling - the lights ostensibly belonging to a Unity drop-ship.

Which meant that they were searching for the abnormal too.

Setting the goggles back to clear vision, he watched as the four ionic jets of the drop-ship kicked into action, speeding the large craft towards him. A flash of fear ripped through him like a lightning strike and as he instinctively dropped to the ground and flattened himself on the roof, he hoped against hope that his scavenged black uniform would help him blend in with the cold, onyx-coloured tiles that his back rested upon. If he was spotted, he would have no other option but to abandon this person and get the hell out of there, lest he and his entire squad be captured.

With a loud, deep buzzing the drop-ship flew directly over him and hovered a few hundred yards away, and for a second he thought that it was all over, that he had been made. The sound of his pulse thundered in his ears like an earthquake that mingled with the agitated calls of his name from his earpiece, and he quietly hissed the words  _'radio silence'_  to make sure the rest of his unit shut the fuck up to give his head a break. Keeping his eyes firmly entrenched on the four-engine vehicle, he didn't realise that he had been holding his breath…

…until, after an eternity, the drop-ship lazily flew off in a southerly direction and his lungs allowed themselves to work again, the paralysing fear dissipating with every metre that the ship flew away from him. He quickly scrambled to his feet, using the staff for support, and watched as the four lights began to shrink into nothing...and pulled the goggles onto his forehead. His natural vision would be better at this point.

"We have a problem."

" _Report."_

"I lost visual, and a Unity patrol craft just flew over me. I wasn't seen, but I think they know where the package is."

" _Follow them. Stay out of sight, but keep on their six. Do you want back-up?"_

He was already leap-flying from building to building behind the vehicle, making sure to stay in the blind spot below and to the rear of it. The question was odd but expected – Unity patrol craft usually contain six to eight clone units and one squad leader known as the Alpha. Out of the eight of them, the Alpha is the one who possessed a semblance of individualistic thought – such as it was – while the clones were bred specifically to follow orders. Dressed in all black military clothing with opaque black helmets, they were designed to intimidate and force obedience, with a basic knowledge of combat if the situation called for it.

He knew that one clone was no match for his skills, but eight plus one Alpha? Sounds like fun.

"Negative."

He knew that Harvester probably ignored him and sent Pitch anyway, but the realisation that he was running out of time weighed heavily on his mind while elegantly free-running over the rooftops, especially given that the drop-ship had started a descent towards the Nether, the outskirts of the city. Good place to hide, but bad place to live.

The anxiety unstoppably crept from his stomach to his chest as he closed the distance between him and the now-landing drop-ship, and crouched on a nearby street lamp high above the ground he watched the rear hatch open, spitting forth eight clones and one Alpha down its rear exit ramp. Perfect formation, as usual.

 _Unity in thought, Unity in deed._   _Complete bullshit._

"Eight mooks, one Alpha. They're breaking down the door to a disused house. Shall I engage?"

" _Negative. Wait for Pitch."_  Harvester responded with a forceful growl that was  _not_  missed. He was overly cautious at that point.

The man felt the gritting of his teeth as he watched the clones broke through the door and forced their way into the small building, and he knew that his window of opportunity was closing fast. If those mooks managed to get the unfortunate abnormal onto the carrier, then that was it. On the other hand, if he intervened too early and was incapacitated, that would be the end of him, too.

As he re-adjusted the goggles that sat patiently onto his forehead and clipped a mask to the lower half of his face, a jagged snowflake emblem where his mouth should be, he decided it's a risk worth taking, especially for this undoubtedly terrified person who had no idea of the troubles he or she was about to face.

"Engaging."

The angry utterances of his name fell upon deaf ears as he swooped from the street light down onto the roof of the house, and as he counted two clones waiting a few feet away from the door, screams from inside reached his ears and urged him to drop down from the roof and land silently behind the sentries.

"Evening, boys!" he casually said, as though this was nothing special, "Nice night for a kidnapping, isn't it?"

The clone soldiers whipped around upon hearing his voice, and though he couldn't see their expressions, the gasps confirmed that they know what he was. The one to his left – which he randomly called Pinky – tried to raise the stun-rifle and level it at his head, but he was way too fast for that. With both hands gripping his staff, he disarmed 'Pinky' with an upward flick; the motion sending the rifle careening helplessly through the air. Following it up with a swift throat jab using the end of the weapon, 'Pinky' collapsed to his knees with his hands around his throat, desperately trying to massage his nearly-crushed windpipe into life as he coughed loudly and harshly.

The other clone – oddly called 'Brain', at least in the masked man's mind – could only watch as Pinky was summarily incapacitated, and in a moment of surprise-induced clarity he attempted to raise his weapon at the assailant. The man swiftly and elegantly sidestepped his aim and slammed the staff down on 'Brain's' arms, an audible crack echoing in the air as the bone snapped. Any screams that would have left his throat came out as a gasp as the other end of the staff found its way into his diaphragm to force the wind right out of him, and with a crunch the man swung the staff up and smashed it into Brain's helmeted face, knocking him clean out.

"Don't…move."

The man's victory was short-lived, it seemed. Evidently, 'Pinky' recovered from the throat jab quicker than either of them thought, and he cursed himself for not hitting his throat hard enough. He felt the jab of the muzzle against the back of his head, and with a thunderous beating of his heart he prepared to take his chances, to try and beat the stun-blast and take 'Pinky' down.

Except, the wet _shunk_  that reaches his ears, and the gargled cry from the clone's lips told him that he needn't worry. Sighing in part exasperation and part relief, he turned to find Pinky had a black, sand-like spike protruding from his chest, and had become completely and utterly limp.

"You really must learn to watch your six, Frost."

He rolled his eyes at Pitch, who contemptuously dissipated the sand-like construct into his hand and watched as the clone crumpled in an unceremonious heap. Dressed almost entirely in black with a leather trench-coat, he even struck Frost as a little intimidating - but that was Pitch's whole schtick.

"Okay," the man known as Frost snappily retorted, "three things. One, ew. Two, shut up. Three, you took your sweet time."

Pitch smirked almost maliciously and winked at him, offering a hand to the broken doorway.

"I would have arrived more swiftly had I known you started without me. Anyway, ladies first."

Frost narrowed his eyes with a sarcastic scowl before slipping inside the barely lit house and moving up the stairs close by, followed closely by Pitch. Muffled voices reached their ears, one of a woman who sounded decidedly panicked, the other of the Alpha shouting orders to flank her or to apply suppression fire. Sounds of stun blasts punctuate the words, prompting the feet of the two men to ascend the steps with greater haste.

"S-stay away from m-me!"

The woman sounded almost incoherent with terror, and while Pitch ordinarily enjoyed the fear of others, this type struck him with seething rage as it always did. As they reached the upstairs hallway, a fireball shot out of the closest room and ignited the opposite wall and narrowly missed Frost's face, the reflexively quick recoiling preventing his eyebrows from hilariously being set alight.

"Sounds like a real firecracker." Pitch whispered with mild amusement, prompting Frost to give him a look that screamed  _'thank you, Captain Obvious.'_

In the space of one second, Frost poked his head around the doorway and jerked back, eager to avoid the potential of another faceful of fire. Pitch's eyebrows rose in a silent request for answers, which his squad-mate was only too happy to oblige.

"Three on one side, four on the other. Package is taking cover behind an overturned wardrobe." he whispered.

"Well, do you want to take the ones on the left, and I'll take the ones on the right?"

Frost's mask hid a wide, playful smirk, and as he tightly gripped his staff and tensed his legs, Pitch manifested two vicious-looking blades of shadow-sand into his hands as he counted down.

"Ready? One…two…"

The number three wasn't even mentioned as the two men whirled around the corner. Pointing the end of his staff at the three on the left, Frost fired bolts of icy blue lightning at the clones, forcing them to crumple to the ground in agony as they jerked and shuddered as ice filled their bodies. Pitch swept into the fray, swinging his blades left and right in an almost dance-like display of violence, shadow-sand cutting through clothing and flesh, slicing off limbs and driving the vicious swords into unfortunate chests. For a second, Frost was a little unnerved at the almost manic grin on his squad-mate's face as he kicks the Alpha's crotch, and as the unfortunate man dropped to his knees, Pitch crossed both blades on either side of the Alpha's neck and sliced in opposite directions.

With a slightly sickened and incredulous expression, Frost watched the Alpha's head fly off and roll out of the room, and with a sidelong glance to his ally he muttered what he always did whenever the two fought side-by-side.

"You've got issues, Pitch."

Straightening up, the taller man dissolved the blades into his hands and shrugs, wearing an expression of casual nonchalance. Apparently, bloody violence was nothing new to him.

"Don't we all?"

Frost sarcastically rolled his eyes as he turned toward the overturned wardrobe, and with a voice that hid the rushing adrenaline in his veins at the prospect of an accidental fireball, he called out to the 'package'. If she was a fire-weaver, then they neede to be  _very_  careful or everything could go up in flames…literally.

"Hey, you okay over there?"

The voice that responds is indeed female, still wracked with fear – confirmed by the warm temperature of the room and the flickering light behind the wardrobe.

"Please, just…s-stay away!"

"I'm afraid not, princess," Pitch rudely responded, "we're here to save you, and you'll forgive me if I decline the opportunity  _of_ going to another castle."

Frost snorted loudly at the nearly century old reference.

"Hah! Seriously, we're the good guys. We're here to help."

"H-How?! How can you help me? I'm a monster!" she responded with an anguished tone, and the cracks in her voice told Frost that she was desperately trying to stop herself from crying. He could easily understand why. First, she found out that she was 'different', fled and tried to hide from the authorities, and spent the last ten minutes fighting for her life against those who would make her disappear. She was overwhelmed, to say the least.

"We can help because we're just like you…" Frost responded with as much comforting warmth as he could muster. Whether it was the kindness in his words, or the actual words themselves he wasn't sure, but slowly a purple-hooded head poked out from over the top of the overturned wardrobe, showcasing aquamarine eyes that regarded them with tentative fear yet burgeoning curiosity.

"R-r-really?" she asked, her worried gaze flitting from one to the other. Frost shot a sidelong glance at Pitch who silently understood the meaning, and both of them rose their left hands with open palms. A snowflake materialised, hovering happily above Frost's hand while a swirling ball of menacing shadow-sand appeared over Pitch's. The woman's eyes widened in recognition, and slowly but surely she rose to her feet, still regarding the two men with an expression of distinct wariness. Frost's eyes flicked down to the small balls of fire in her hands, and he noticed with surprise that though the sleeves of her purple hooded sweater were starting to burn, her skin was unharmed.

"My name's Jack Frost. This guy is called Pitch Black," he nodded to his ally, who almost theatrically bowed, "What's your name?"

The woman recoils a little, and the flames seem to partially dwindle. Maybe these guys are actually here to help?

"A-Anna. Anna Snowfield." she answered with a voice so timid it almost made Pitch's heart melt - not that he would have shown it, of course.

Jack pulled down his mask as he slowly walked towards her, his staff clunking on the floor with each step of his left foot. He put on the best smile that he could, partly because he thought that Anna was kind of cute despite the look of uncertainty on her face, but mostly because she needed to know they meant her no harm. He blew the snowflake away and offered his hand, which Anna – unsurprisingly given her experiences so far, was unsure of. Yet, something in his eyes seemed to help her to trust him, and with a few clenches of her hands the flames disappeared. Taking his outstretched hand, her breath hitched to find that his skin was almost ice-cold, contrasting completely with the high temperature of hers.

"W-what's going to happen to me?"

"Well, you've got two choices. The first: you stay in New Burgess and pray they don't find you, because if they do…bad things happen." Pitch answered flatly, eliciting a glare from Jack at the bluntness of his tone.

"The other," Jack finished with an annoyed voice, his gaze lingering on his cohort before they softened and returned to her eyes, "is you can come with us. We'll protect you and teach you how to control your powers."

"Who  _are_  you guys? Why are you helping me?" she asked, overwhelmed by the sheer surreality of the situation.

"We're the Ghosts, Anna. This is what we do."

 

* * *

 

 _Location: New Burgess, Upper Level, Snowfield House  
Date: July 9_ _th_ _, 2070_  
Time: 22:19

 

Alone in the huge, wealthy house of the Snowfield family, Elsa was trying her best to stop  _freaking out_. Anna should have been back by now; she was only supposed to go to her friend's place for one night and come back at five o'clock. She should have at least sent a uni-call to let her elder sister know if she was staying for an extra night, or even a mere uni-text. Pacing the cavernous, well lit living room under the giant crystal chandelier, the elder Snowfield tried desperately to ignore the bad thoughts that coursed through her mind's eye.

Having said that, it wasn't like she was close to her sister. Three years ago, their parents had endeavoured to keep them separate from each other, and Elsa was only allowed to leave her room if Anna was not in the house.

An unwanted buzzing began to spread throughout her chest, and with a flash of worry she fumbled inside her trouser pocket for a small metal pill case, a gift from her father. She clearly remembered his words –  _"Whenever you feel you are losing control, take one of these pills. They will help" –_ and he spoke the truth, because minutes after she popped one into her mouth and swallowed it, the increasingly powerful buzzing began to abate.

She marched over to the impossibly shiny black desk situated in the corner of the living room, and decided to try and call her sister's wrist-communication device for the fifty-fourth time. Maybe this time's the charm.

"Call Anna Snowfield."

" _Yes, Miss Snowfield."_ the computer responded with falsely genial tone.

The screen beeped and flickered to life with a picture of her sister adorning the top-left, along with a news bulletin dominating the entire right third with various headlines scrolling from top to bottom, Elsa's own face mirrored below Anna's, and the word  _Calling_  in elegant, vertical lettering along the centre.

" _I'm sorry, Miss Snowfield, but the call is unable to connect. Would you like to try again?"_

Elsa hissed a curse to herself, and with an angry "no!" the glass screen obediently reverted to its transparent form. Fifty-four times she has called, and fifty four times there was no connection. If she wasn't scared before, she was now. What if her sister had been kidnapped by rebels? What if she had an accident?

What if…

A melodic, sonorous beeping soared through the air like a mechanical bird, and Elsa whirled around to the screen. Her heart jumped into her mouth when she read the words  _Call Waiting_  that slowly flashed in a horizontal line, and she never said the words "connect call" so fast in her life.

However the face that greeted her was not of her sister. It belonged to a man with auburn hair, sideburns that reached his earlobes and an almost plastic smile across his face. Elsa recognised this man as Hans Larsen, leader of the Unity Government _'s_  military wing. Why would he be calling at this hour?

" _Unity to you, Miss Snowfield."_

He was the first to speak, and there was an almost calculated tone to his voice, as though everything he said was rehearsed.

"…and to you, Mr Larsen. I don't mean to be rude, but to what do I owe this call?"

His plastic smile faltered, and a pained look exuded from his hazel eyes, the expression causing the elder Snowfield to experience a rush of fear through her spine. Before she knew it, her arms instinctively wrapped themselves around her stomach in nervousness, feeling the softness of the rich ice-blue sweater under her fingertips.

" _I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news, Miss Snowfield."_

"Is…is it about my sister?" Elsa asked weakly, feeling a wetness welling up in her eyes just as a lump formed in her throat...however, the man known as Hans slowly shook his head. That would have been a sign of relief…had his expression not retained the sad empathy.

" _No…it's about your parents. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Miss Snowfield, but your parents were the victims of a shooting. They were found dead in their car a few hours ago."_

The words hit her like a freight train. Her parents had only left the house earlier in the day, summoned to a meeting with representatives of the Ministry of Science...and they had been mercilessly murdered in their car. She felt the wave of crushing grief explode from her chest, coursing through every inch of her being, washing over her heart, her mind, even her soul. Her legs gave way under the revelation and she crumpled to her kneels, burying her face in her hands as the tears of extreme despair rushed forth from her cerulean eyes. Even Hans grimaced in sympathy, looking away from the screen as though Elsa's acute grief was making him uncomfortable...and for a time, there was nothing that either of them could hear but the loud sobbing that escaped the elegant platinum blonde's mouth.

It was the worst night of her life. Her sister had disappeared, and her parents were dead. She was alone.

" _I am sorry, Miss Snowfield."_

"Who…w-who d-did it?" she cried.

" _We...we believe the Ghosts are responsible."_

The words stopped the tears in their tracks, and ceased the crippling sobs with a merciless strike. To know that her parents had been murdered by a group known for violence, hijacking, terrorist activities and now assassinations? To know exactly  _who_  it was?

" _What."_ she hissed, an impolite request for an explanation. Hans looked off to the side and made an off-screen swiping gesture with his hands judging by the way his right shoulder moved, and suddenly an image of three men surrounding a bullet-riddled car appeared under his face. The men are different to each other; one was tall and clad almost entirely in black with a slender, pointed face, the other was bulky and had a head of messy blonde hair…

…and with hard eyes the third man stared directly at the camera, a snowflake mask across his mouth and white hair adorning his head. All three men were sporting automatic rifles from several decades ago, and for a second, Elsa wished that the picture was in colour and not black-and-white.

" _I know this may be hard to hear, but we believe your parents were killed because of their work on the abnormality-suppression vaccine."_

She couldn't believe it. In one night, her sister went missing and her parents were murdered by a fringe myth. She didn't know what to think, what to feel…her entire world had been turned upside down by. She desperately needed an anchor, something to hold on to...

...and it came in the form of an offer - were she not consumed by grief and anger, and had Unity not abolished and suppressed any and all forms of religion, she would have likened it to a deal with the devil.

" _Miss Snowfield, I do have a way for you to achieve justice for your parents…but I am hesitant to offer it to you in your current-"_

"What is your proposal?" Elsa snapped, practically biting Hans' metaphorical hand. He paused for a moment, evidently considering his words with all the care of a bomb disposal expert.

" _I have been recently put in charge of a new task force, to create a new unit that is designed specifically to hunt down and eliminate the Ghosts. They will be highly trained, well-armed and will have the full arsenal of Unity behind them."_

Whether it was the maelstrom of emotions inside her or not, she didn't know, but the words escaped her lips before she is even aware of them leaving her throat.

"I'm in."

" _Miss Snowfield, please don't rush this. What I am offering is not something to be taken lightly, it is-"_

"I said: I'm in." she tersely repeated, her rage rising with each second. Despite being a member of the rival House Larsen, he was offering her a way to get back at the Ghosts, to satisfy her lust for vengeance…and a way to find her sister. Hans smiled warmly at her, which caused a wave of nausea in her stomach that she had to fight very hard to push down, especially with the almost  _'checkmate'_  expression adorning his face.

" _Welcome to the Valkyrie Program, Miss Snowfield."_


	2. For Love and Chocolate

_It was, for the young Snowfield woman, a blur from start to finish._

_Her mind kept replaying the night's events over and over again like some sadistic recording, from the moment she felt nothing but searing, burning pain coursing through her body to the point that it was all she could do was drop to all fours as flames exploded from her hands and violently spread in a wide circle around her…when she screamed with incomprehension and terror as the warehouse around her_ burned _like a fiery call to the heavens._

_The part where she wandered the streets of the Lower City, knowing nothing but fear and the intense heat inside her, the panic that whatever just happened would repeat itself, and all these people would be there to see it._

_The end where she holed herself up in an empty house in the Nether, praying that no-one would accidentally come across her…or search for her. She knew from the propaganda posters dotted around the upper city that anyone who was remotely different should be reported for sedition, and they would disappear. Where a squad of Unity soldiers cornered her like a stray animal, only adding to her fear and turning it into outright terror._

_But then, as a pseudo-happy ending, the timely arrival of two men wearing similar clothing to the soldiers – with a few changes, like their utility vests wearing the scars of battle and age. One who seemed to be made of pure darkness and the other his polar opposite, pure white hair and eyes of striking blue. Two people who possessed their own gifts, their own abnormalities…and survived._

_They mentioned who they were – Ghosts. They were a myth, or so the propaganda said. A rogue, errant faction of the Empyrean Alliance, dedicated to nothing but screwing with Unity. She didn't know if she could, if she_ should  _believe them, for all she knew they could be a feint, a Trojan Horse designed to lull her into a false sense of security, to make her think that she was safe._

_The thing was that she had a realisation that she would never be safe. Not now. Not after the warehouse._

_So when they gave her the choice – which sounded distinctly like an ultimatum – she knew where she had to go, even with her fear-gripped mind. Naturally, she trusted them about as much as she trusted Unity…but there was something about the kindness, how they seemed to go out of their way to pull her out of trouble that suggested to her that she take their offer, that she go with them._

_Of course, she wasn't stupid. It meant leaving everything behind, including her identity. It meant accepting the fact that, after the warehouse, that there was nothing left for her here. In essence, Anna Snowfield died in that warehouse, consumed by the flames that her body inexplicably produced, flying in the face of science and common knowledge._

_And as they led her out of the empty house and walked approximately a mile outside of the city limits – she noted with a little bit of grateful warmth that, every step of the way, an arm belonging to the man known as Jack Frost was draped protectively over her shoulders – towards a rather attractive, burly, muscular man in similar military clothing and another, thinner man sat astride…she didn't even know what the hell_ that  _was...she had but one regret._

_She would likely never see her elder sister again._

_Yet, after three years of being kept separate from her by their parents, maybe that was nothing new._

* * *

_Location: Guardian Star, Training Room  
Date: August 15_ _th_ _2073_  
_Time: 10:45_

 

"So when are you guys gonna take it to the next level?"

Jack's question took Anna off guard to the point that, with her steel batons midway towards his head, she momentarily hesitated. Sensing his advantage, Jack blocked the attack with the middle of his staff, pushed her batons back and finished with a sweep, using the staff to take her legs from under her. She hit the soft mat with a satisfying  _'oof',_ shooting him a withering glare while she recovered from the comprehensive reversal.

"Take what to the next level?" she groaned, annoyed at the obvious distraction. Jack merely gave her a wink.

"You and Kristoff," he said in a playful voice as he leaned on his staff, "taking it up a notch."

Anna narrowed her eyes at him. Sure, her relationship with Kristoff wasn't exactly secret, and hadn't been for the past two years, but she wasn't expecting it to be the source of interest among the group, something for them to keep track of.

"What do you mean,  _'up a notch'_? Also, are you gonna help me up, or is it a thing with you to leave ladies on the floor?" she teased with a hint of sarcasm, the left side of her lips curling in humour as she held up her left arm. Jack sniggered as he bent over to grasp her hand, and with a grunt of effort he firmly pulled her upright.

"Depends on the lady, and what I meant was: has he proposed yet?" he smirked, a glint in his cobalt blues.

Anna blinked twice in mild surprise. The idea of marriage wasn't something anyone on the  _Guardian Star_  really entertained given the nature of their careers, and though it was a notion that she found attractive, she did possess a kind of uncertainty about the topic.

"No he hasn't…and anyway, it's none of your business, Frost!" she narrowed her eyes once more, pointing a threatening finger at his face…a gesture undone by the smirk creasing her lips. Jack spread his hands and dipped his head submissively, his expression echoing hers.

"Fair enough! I just thought Anna Bjorgman had a nice ring to it. Hah, ring. See what I did there?"

Anna shook her head with incredulous exasperation as she walked over to the other end of the mat, preparing for another sparring session.

"You're so predictable. I love you…like a best friend, you understand?" she teased, adding the last remark as though Jack had differing thoughts.

"Hey," he retorted, walking back to his own spot, "if you felt that way, you should've just said! See, I bought flowers and chocolate, and a ring and everything! Now I get friendzoned? You're a cruel mistress, Anna."

She laughed, and it was a sound that Jack couldn't get enough of from her, or anyone for that matter. Living the way they do, in this world, laughter is something precious and rare…and precisely the thing that Jack tries to elicit from anyone at any given opportunity.

He and his best friend always trained like this in between missions or during down time. It kept them in shape, in tip-top fighting condition should they ever be ambushed…and three years since Anna's rescue from New Burgess along with the announcement of the Valkyries, a new anti-abnormal team which Jack  _knew_  had been put together to hunt the Ghosts down, it was more important than ever to make sure they were at the top of their game.

Anna turned to face him, twirling her batons in her hands as an aggressive flourish and holding them defensively in front, her body tensing as she rocked back and forth. Jack responded by spinning his staff around his body in a show of dominance, finishing with the end pointed towards her. This was the point that they took stock of their opponent, their stances and predicted which way they would move. Wearing a black military tank top and black-and-white camo pants with heavy boots, and her stance denoting aggression and fire, Jack knew which way she would swing. Anna always fought with passion, using her emotions to fuel her strikes but not letting them control her, so rather than swing wildly she would strike true and with strength. It was something that seemed to be typical to her, probably because of her powers. As a fire-weaver, everything about her was hot, blazing and passionate.

Jack was her polar opposite, and not just because of their differing powers. He fought defensively and with agility, using the opponent's strength against them, and using lots of feints and counters to annoy his opponent into making a mistake – and annoying people is what he did best.

There was, however, an added dimension to that sparring session – a prize. Jack had the myopic and partly arrogant idea that whoever administers the most knockdowns is the winner, and their prize would be the bar of chocolate he had been saving for a rainy day for three months. Chocolate was Anna's thing, her raison d'etre, and dangling it like a carrot was  _asking_  for defeat.

"Y'know what, let's lose the sticks." she declared with a smirk, tossing her batons aside. Jack chuckled as he threw his staff to his right, the clanging on the metal floor indicating it was well out of the way.

He barely reacted in time before Anna was upon him with a left jab, the quick weave to the right saving him from a messy impact. He countered by pushing the strike away with his left hand and aimed a sweeping kick at the back of her legs, a move which she predicted and therefore dodged with a well-timed jump.

She followed up the evasive manoeuvre with a swift one-two at his head, a move that he barely blocked in time along with ducking her spin kick aimed at the same place – and in that moment, he regretted suggesting his last bar of chocolate for the foreseeable future as a prize, especially as he was losing ground under her assault.

And then…he lost. With a swift kick to the diaphragm that he was  _not_  prepared for, Jack doubled over as the wind was ripped from his lungs, and in a motion that made it look like she was channelling Fa Mulan, she spun low and aimed a sweeping kick at the back of his feet, knocking them straight out from under him and ungracefully onto his ass. Still gasping for breath, he gaped incredulously at his squad-mate at the comprehensive beat-down he just received.

Anna merely smirked with a smug expression, folding her arms with a finger poking out and waggling at him.

"Five-four to me. Told you, never use chocolate as a prize."

He held up a hand and beckoned with his fingers for assistance, and for the fifth time that morning Anna gripped his forearm and pulled him upright.

"Duly noted for future reference." he groaned.

"Yeah, you said that last time."

"Hey, I won that one!"

"Only just," she sniggered, pinching his cheeks like a cooing grandmother, "anyway, pay up. The Bank of Anna welcomes all deposits of chocolate."

Jack rolled his eyes as he walked over to the utility vest draped over one of the spectator chairs at the far end of the training room, and fished out a brightly coloured bar from his breast pocket. Grunting in disdain, he returned to Anna – who cheekily gestured with her hands as if to say  _'come on then'_  – and just as the exchange was made, a metallic set of thuds echoed from the door.

"Come in!" Jack shouted, his hands firmly grasping the chocolate to prevent her pulling it away, and only when it opened did he look away – unfortunately, Anna chose that moment to jerk the bar from his hands.

"Oh, hey Koz." he greeted the newcomer with his typical nonchalance.

Kozmotis "Pitch" Pitchinier stood in the doorway, his right hand upon the door handle while the other held onto the doorframe as he leaned through, his golden eyes dancing between the cobalt and the sapphire, and the bar of chocolate in between.

"You really must stop betting with Anna. You always lose." he sniggered, lips curving into something between an amused smile and a sneer.

"Pfft," Anna scoffed, "like that'll happen. You're my main source of confectionery income."

"I live to serve the Bank of Anna," Jack muttered sarcastically, spreading his hands and bowing his head in mock-subservience, "anyway, what's up?"

"Kristoff wants us in the briefing room. Five minutes."

And with that, he disappeared on his way. Jack suspected that if he wore a robe at that moment, he would have swished it for dramatic emphasis; such was the occasional theatricality that was Pitch Black.

Five minutes and three decks later, Jack and Anna strode into the lecture room with all the nonchalance and breeziness in the world, well, for the strawberry blonde at least. Fresh from the victory that earned her a precious bar of chocolate – the same victory that had Jack wearing a scowl – the two Ghosts clunked open the steel door and stepped inside.

The briefing room was, essentially, a lecture hall. The entrance was situated behind the topmost row of chairs which looked down upon an old repurposed  _Mk I Uni-Com_  glass interface, reverse engineered by Hiccup "Night Fury" Haddock and reprogrammed by Hiro "Glitch" Hamada. It acted as their information centre, their briefing apparatus and in some respects their main computer, housing the identities and power statistics of every one of the fifteen hundred souls on board the  _Guardian Star_.

Unfortunately, due to the  _Star's_  location in the Dead Zone and the jamming signal that it created, communication to or from the  _Uni-Com_ to any of the squads was impossible, but it did its job. Like nearly everything on board the  _Star_  and indeed the  _Star_ itself, it was scavenged from existing or old  _Unity_ technology. Hell, even the weapons that the Ghosts used on missions with lethal force were archaic assault rifles from forty years ago.

Kristoff stood before the  _Uni-_ Com interface with his back to the newly arrived squad members, the left-to-right swiping motions of his hands prompting brightly coloured maps and blueprints to appear and then fly off the screen. Kozmotis looked impossibly relaxed, dressed in a tight-fitting black T-shirt and similar camouflage pants to Anna, his legs draped over the back of the seat in front of him. Hiccup was parked at the front, hunched over something that neither Jack nor Anna could see, but suspected it was his latest gadget.

The clang of the door closing behind them alerted everyone's attention to their arrival, with Kozmotis offering a two-fingered mock-salute and Hiccup nodding respectfully. Kristoff gestured to the seats closest to the  _Uni-Com_  screen, and with a speed that betrayed to everyone how much she loved the burly man Anna hopped down the steps and planted a quick kiss on her boyfriend's cheek.

"Hey, honey." he spoke softly, returning the kiss just before she took the nearest seat. His eyes flicked up to Jack, who had caught up and was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet with his hands behind his back, expectantly waiting for something.

"…what are you doing, Jack?" he questioned, raising a puzzled eyebrow.

"Me? I'm waiting for  _my_  kiss, handsome." the second-in-command breezily answered, yelping when the palm of Kristoff's left hand connected with the back of his snow-white head.

"Get your ass down in a seat," he ordered, rolling his eyes, "before I make you sit down."

Jack grumpily muttered something about only asking for a kiss as he rubbed the back of his head – Kristoff's innate strength meant he had to hold back nearly all the time, but it still felt like a tank shell regardless. Taking the seat next to Anna, who shook her head with exasperation and amusement, he was still nursing the back of his skull when Kristoff began to speak.

"Okay, listen up. Scout team Red have been tracking a supply convoy headed from here-"

His hands made a motion as though pulling something apart, and the map of Unity controlled America enlarged itself on the screen, and then pointed with his left finger at a huge circle near the East Coast. A small window of text popped up which was easily readable, even to Kozmotis – New Arendelle.

"-to here, with stops here, here and here."

He tapped four times along a highlighted pre-defined route, each fingertip leaving behind a pulsating red circle, with the fourth landing on New Corona, to the far west near what used to be called California.

"What's the convoy carrying?" Hiccup asked, his eyes dancing between each red circle.

"Tech, food, weapons, usual stuff. What we really want are the fuel cells in the fifth hover-truck. Our dropships have been going through them like Anna goes through chocolate-"

"Hey!"

"-and as you know, we've had to cut power to a few decks of the  _Star,_ cause we're running out. We need those fuel cells. Anything else is a bonus; though consider food a priority as well."

Kozmotis pulled his feet from the chair in front and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees – the prospect of gratuitous violence never failed to grab his attention.

"Where do we hit it?" he asked, his English tones dripping with anticipation.

One tap on the second pulsating circle caused the map to zoom in, creating a 3-D representation of one of the ruined, abandoned cities halfway between New Arendelle and New Burgess.

"There are a few depots on the way, but this one has the lightest enemy presence. It's far from any Reaper swarms, so they don't have the usual clone garrisons or drone units."

Jack shuddered internally at the mere mention of Reapers. They were humanoid, fast and downright feral. Easy to kill, but if one found you then hundreds would follow. Once, the Ghosts were on a training exercise a few miles away from one of the ramshackle settlements surrounding New Corona on the West Coast, where they were ambushed by a passing squad of Unity clone soldiers. The battle was short and fierce…and only because it had the unintended effect of attracting a rogue swarm of Reapers. The memory of watching a clone trooper literally being torn apart by three of the creatures as the Ghosts quickly fled was one that stayed with him since that day.

The fifth rule of being in their little unit: if you ever hear an unearthly shrieking, you run. Don't stop, don't look back, just run like hell.

"Which also means you'll be using non-lethal tactics." Kristoff added, smirking when he heard a predictably load groan of disappointed exasperation from the back.

"Why? Non-lethal is so  _boring…_ " Kozmotis whined, his head flopping back as though he had just been told that he had to do homework before playing with his friends.

"Two reasons. One, those are soldiers with families and two, because I said so. Anyway, the convoy just set off from the base outside New Arendelle and will reach the second in about nine hours, so we'll have nightfall on our side."

He tapped on a moderately sized square just outside of the ruined city's limits, which brought up a rudimentary blueprint of the second supply depot.

"Hiccup will fly with Toothless and hit their communications antennae on the southwest quarter. While they're busy trying to put out the fires and work out who just hit them, Jack and Kozmotis will sneak in through the northwest fence and provide a distraction while Anna slips through the south entrance and steals the fifth truck. Once you're moving, don't stop until you get to the drop-ship…you don't want to be there when the Valkyries come."

Jack cursed quietly as another shudder coursed through his body. A year ago, three teams worked co-operatively and with surgical finesse…now, thanks to the Valkyries, only the Ghosts remained. So far, as yet they had not tangled with the anti-abnormal strike team…

….but he sincerely hoped Shrek and Belle were still alive.

"It's going to take you guys about five hours to fly there, so you've got one hour to suit up and get ready." Kristoff ordered, turning from the view-screen to fix each of them with a commanding look. Jack was the first to rise from his seat, offering Kristoff a salute that neither of them could be sure was genuine or not.

"Boys, you heard our glorious leader, let's go get our shit together." he announced, clapping once to get everyone's attention as he practically danced up the steps toward the door. Hiccup rose to his feet clutching the gadget, followed by Kozmotis who responded somewhat lazily. Anna was the last to rise from her chair, but instead of following she stepped forward towards her boyfriend and captured his lips with a soft, sweet kiss that melted their hearts together.

"Are you not coming with us, hon?" she asked after pulling away, her arms wrapped around the back of his neck. Kristoff slowly shook his head as he delicately placed his huge hands upon her hips.

"Not this time. I need to stick around and co-ordinate things." he sighed. Anna frowned and gave him one hell of a pout.

"That means I won't see you for," she paused, counting in her mind, "over ten hours!"

Kristoff smirked and pulled her body closer to his, her breasts pressing through her tank top onto his T-shirt-covered muscular chest and her hips flush against him, and with a quiet gasp she clocked his intentions.

"Well, there was a reason I gave you all an hour to suit up…" he winked, and with a coy giggle Anna unclasped her hands, grasped his left fingers and led him up the steps towards the door that everyone else had disappeared through, and just before they stepped out she glanced over her shoulder and gave him a voice so sultry it turned his once titanium-strength legs to jelly.

"Perfect. Your quarters or mine?"

* * *

 _Location: Firing Range, Unity Staging Ground, twelve miles north of New Burgess  
Date: August 15_ _th_ _, 2073_  
_Time: 12:34_

 

The firing range was one of those places where, if the red light near the entrance was on, people had to be very careful where they found themselves. It was a large, well-equipped room with practice booths on one side and a facsimile of a ruined factory a hundred yards away on the other. Every so often, robotic dolls would pop up in the windows, and obviously those that were honing their skills would shoot with their energy rifles at those targets.

Except there was an added dimension of difficulty…as the dolls  _returned fire._

Bolts of blue would go one way while bolts of red would fly back, and depending on the difficulty level of the training exercise –  _Omega_ was the toughest, with the dolls' accuracy being nigh infallible – soldiers would either find themselves effortlessly racking up points or spending most of their time ducking under cover. It was one of the most dangerous places to be, as it only takes four shots of a stun-rifle to kill, and the red projectiles fired by the dolls were designed to cause incredible pain upon impact. Many a soldier had been admitted to the infirmary because they didn't duck in time.

Naturally, right in the middle of it was where Elsa Snowfield could be found as no-one would dare bother her while practice sessions were in progress.

Three years since her parents' deaths, the disappearance of her sister and acceptance of Hans Larsen's offer, she had created a reputation among the Unity soldiers as a cold, prickly person who had little time for anyone except her Valkyrie squad…and even then, her demeanour towards her squad-mates was often curt and taciturn.

Sometimes she questioned why she accepted Hans' offer to train as and lead the Valkyries, especially given the quiet rivalry between House Snowfield and House Larsen, but the mental image of a man with white hair and brown eyes  _always_  barged its way into her mind's eye…and she found her resolve was hardened…but there was always a voice in her heart, one that whispered  _"this isn't you…"_.

So, she trained. She trained and trained and trained, to the point that she was almost nothing but combat manoeuvres and tactics, waiting for the day that Hans would deem them ready to take on the Ghosts. Dressed in her usual training clothing – a tight black tank top that accentuated her curves and breasts to the point of irritation whenever the male soldiers' eyes would linger too long, black military trousers and combat boots, she would usually be found holding a position that resembled the lower part of a press-up.

It was in that position that she heard the loud, deep  _harnk harnk_ resonate through the firing range, and saw the rotation of the red warning lights in her peripheral vision – and that meant someone had paused the training session.

Which meant she was about to receive a visitor.

She looked up and to the left, and with a quiet growl of annoyance spotted one of the staging grounds' intelligence officers walking towards her, clutching a square of clear glass in one hand and a mildly blank expression on his face. She pushed herself up from the ground and rose to her feet, and regarded the man with a stern expression as she dusted off her hands, the toned muscles in her arms contracting and relaxing accordingly.

"Is there something on my face, soldier?"

The blank stare adopted by the man prior to her snap was suddenly jerked away, and with a hasty movement he thrust the glass into Elsa's hands, anxious to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"N-no, ma'am!" he stuttered, "sorry to disturb you, but orders just came in from Commander Larsen, ma'am."

Elsa narrowed her eyes and snatched the glass tablet from him to peruse the information that danced upon the transparent screen, vertically flicking her fingers to scroll through each window of text. She was reading through the cargo manifest of a convoy bound for New Corona when she noticed that the officer was, for some unknown reason, still lingering beside her.

"Is there a reason you are still here, soldier?" she curtly questioned, an eyebrow raised.

The man's eyes widened, and with a hurried  _"no, ma'am"_  he scurried off back to what Elsa assumed to be the intel room. Returning her gaze to the tablet, she spotted something that sped up her heart rate – the contents of the fifth hover-truck.

Fuel cells.

Her legs kicked into action as she marched away from the firing range toward the booths, and after vaulting one of the empty spaces she pressed a finger against her ear and spoke with commanding grace.

"Valkyries, briefing room. Now."

* * *

It took about ten minutes to walk from the firing range to the briefing room; ten minutes that was spent nursing the thought that their new orders could mean the thing that she wanted most – answers.

As she passed through the Valkyrie Wing, where the quarters belonging to her and her squad-mates, their training rooms and education halls were located, she felt the rise of anticipation along with simmering agitation course through her chest like a spectator watching the final lap of a race.

As she rounded the corner of the concrete grey corridor her eyes fell upon something that, for a moment, took her mind off the task at hand and brought a new series of questions. It was a door that she had seen every day for three years, yet never failed to arouse a deep curiosity within her.

_SLEEPING BEAUTY INTERFACE. AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY._

She wondered what  _'Sleeping Beauty'_ was, and whether she would ever get clearance to find out. Commander Larsen kept them on a fairly tight leash, limiting their ranks to only allow them access to certain classified documents – anything Level 6 or higher was out of bounds, and unauthorised access meant she would be arrested for sedition.

_One day. One day I will find what lies behind that door._

Shaking the thought from her mind, she resumed her journey toward the briefing room at the far end of the L-shaped corridor, where the door was left half open and voices wafted through to her ears. Evidently her squad-mates were either hanging around each other's quarters, or were simply quicker at arriving. Either way, it meant that she didn't have to wait.

Pushing open the steel door, she was greeted with the three other Valkyries in her unit: Astrid "Viking" Hofferson, Merida "Bear" DunBroch, and Rapunzel "Goldilocks" Corona. They were all chattering excitedly about something that she had no patience for, because in her mind there was only one reason that the Valkyries existed, and anything else, any other topic of conversation was irrelevant.

Destroy the Ghosts.

Announcing her arrival with a slamming of the steel door, Merida was the first to bolt to attention followed quickly by the others, all pairs of eyes staring straight ahead, all voices silenced, except for the barking of Elsa's second in command.

"Officer on deck!" shouted Astrid, her body rigid and upright.

"As you were." Elsa replied, striding down the steps between them. The briefing room was circular, with dozens of chairs surrounding a shiny black metal table, which closely resembled a block of granite. On the left side of the table was a thin slot, and as Astrid turned off the room's main lights with a flick of the switch by the door, Elsa slid the glass tablet into the receptacle and pressed a button.

The tablet was illuminated with a faint white light that indicated the data was being read, and within seconds a group of shimmering orbs of blue light spread forth from the centre of the table, congealing together and then stretching to form a map of Unity-controlled America, with three large circles representing their main cities. The face of each Valkyrie was bathed in the blue light, as though their skin gave off an iridescent glow.

"Marshmallow, bring up the convoy's route to New Corona." Elsa ordered, her eyes fixed upon the holo-map. The table emitted a series of dull beeps, and obliged by highlighting a broken, staggered line between the two cities, along with three red dots in between.

"Two hours ago, a convoy containing vital supplies for the soldiers based outside New Corona set off from Alpha Base outside New Arendelle, and it will travel along this route, stopping at three depots for supplies, refuelling and shift changes."

"So?" Merida interjected, shrugging, "what's it tae us?"

Elsa shot her a glowering look and ordered 'Marshmallow' to bring up the second depot, along with a personnel manifest and blueprint of the place itself.

"In about seven hours, it will make a stop here…and that's where we think the Ghosts are going to hit it."

An audible series of mutters escaped the lips of the three Valkyries, with Astrid and Rapunzel even shifting their positions with something that could be described as discomfort. Sure, their team was created and trained to fight the elite abnormal team, but…there was something about the prospect of actually  _fighting_  them that sent a small bout of nerves throughout their spines. Elsa, however, remained calm and focused…though she nursed the thought that her chance for vengeance was approaching.

"We will take our patrol ship and shadow the convoy until it reaches that depot, and wait for the attack…at which point we will intervene and apprehend the enemy squad, thereby protecting the convoy and eliminating the greatest threat to our society."

_Well…second greatest threat. The cold war between us and the Empyrean Alliance…_

"Lethal or non-lethal force?" Astrid asked, folding her arms as she watched a slightly thicker sequence of lights slowly travel towards the first red circle.

"Non-lethal, but put them down if necessary…and I don't need to remind you, the one known as Frost is mine." Elsa answered with the growl of a command heavy in her voice. Rapunzel shifted uncomfortably in her seat – though she had signed up to be a member of this squad, she was  _not_  a fan of lethal force.

"Stun arrows, then." Merida muttered to herself.

"I also don't need to remind you that this is the real thing. Everything we have trained for, all the other abnormal squads we have apprehended and handed over to the Inquisitors, it's all for this moment."

"You have fifteen minutes to suit up and get ready. Valkyries, move out."

A three-strong chorus of  _"yes ma'am"_ graced her ears as her squad-mates rose to their feet, saluted and hurriedly exited the room, leaving her to gaze imperiously at the shimmering map, her eyes glinting with anticipatory promise and simmering fury.

"Bring up the profile of the one called Frost."

Marshmallow obliged with another series of dull beeps, and after a few seconds the brightly lit map disassembled itself and reformed, creating a light blue 3-D holographic representation of the man with messy hair, chiselled mask-covered jawline and cheeky yet hard eyes. She extended her left hand to caress the hologram's jaw, and the entire head obediently shrank and lazily moved to hover over her outstretched palm. She cocked her head with an almost predatory smile as she stared into its eyes, taking in every inch of her target.

"I'm coming for you, Frost." she declared, and with a quick clench of her hand as though breaking a potato chip…

…the holographic illusion shattered into a thousand pieces.

* * *

_COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS): **03:05:13:26:06**_


	3. Snark-to-Snark Combat

" _How are you holding up?"_

 _Anna didn't even look up from the part of the bulkhead she had been staring at for the past two hours, and she was pretty sure she could recite the items in her sight by memory if necessary – rigging on the ceiling for the occupants to hold on to, four stun-rifles fixed into special sockets on the wall, a personnel bench with harnesses, and four parachutes under that bench, for the record. Two hours in a dimly lit ex-Unity drop-ship. Having said that, considering she_ flew _in the arms of Jack Frost for about thirty minutes prior to finding the craft – and how terrifying_ that _was, the opportunity to sit on something resembling solid ground was sorely welcome._

_They were kind people, she noticed. Pretty much as soon as she parked her butt on one of the benches, the burly man called Harvester had wrapped an olive-green coarse cotton blanket around her body – it was fairly pointless as she was emitting a serious amount of body heat, but the gesture was appreciated – offered her some of his rations and, noticing that she was zoning out on occasion, decided to let her be for a time. She did catch his expression on occasion, one of sympathy and concern. It had been a long time since anyone looked at her that way, even her friends._

_It was then that she started to question everything she had been told, that abnormals were a threat to society and any sightings, even if only suspected, were to be reported immediately. That the Ghosts were a fringe faction of the Empyrean Alliance, dedicated to starting a war between the two titanic powers, and they lived to make life hell for the citizens of Unity._

_She got the distinct impression that they were just people trying to survive in a world that hates them._

_The question that Harvester asked her, though, was one that was both stupid and yet appreciated. She looked up at the man who had his head cocked to the side, concern in his eyes. It was strange, the way he looked at her. It was as though he found her a beautiful creature, too beautiful to be so despairing._

" _I'm…not doing so well…" she could only muster, offering him a faint smile in gratitude for his question as she pulled the blanket a little tighter around herself._

" _I'm not surprised. Could I…could I sit?" he asked, a tentative tone to his voice that didn't seem common as he gestured to her left. Anna was briefly puzzled by this; she was riding in their drop-ship, yet he was asking_ her _if he could sit by her side. It took her a few seconds, but she nodded weakly. As he stepped over and sank down, she caught a glimpse of Jack Frost in the pilot seat of the cockpit, and was faintly amused to see that he was engaged in a single-handed slap-fight with the man called Pitch, one hand on the control column as they flew through the night sky._

" _You probably know me as Harvester, but my name is Kristoff Bjorgman. I hear you're called Anna?"_

_She nodded, tearing her eyes away from the immature scuffle in the cockpit._

" _Yeah…"_

_Even though she felt a strange numbness, something about this Kristoff next to her seemed to radiate comfort and support, and she found the questions that had been racing around her head for the past hour were easier to voice, that the answers he could provide would be the safe berth for the metaphorical boat of her mind, tossed and turned by a sea of uncertainty._

"… _what happened to me?" she asked, her voice cracking with incomprehension. She must have looked like a lost child, and she certainly felt like it._

" _We…we call it a Bloom Event. It's where people like us gain our abilities. Sometimes it's quiet, and easy. Other times…it's loud and terrifying. All we really know is that when we reach a certain age, and it's different for everyone, we go through the changes. Sometimes they're small, others can be…drastic."_

" _That's what happened to me?"_

" _Yeah," he answered, tentatively raising a hand as though to stroke her back in reassurance, then swiftly and nervously pulling it away, "though you made one hell of an entrance."_

_She chuckled mirthlessly at the dry humour, a sound which ceased as a pair of familiar faces barged into her mind. In the 'excitement' of the past few hours, she had completely forgotten about two very important people._

" _Will I ever see my parents again?"_

_Kristoff looked away and a pained expression shot across his face, as though he knew something that he did not want to utter, and it was hurting him inside._

" _Your…I…I'm sorry. I got word from one of our sources in the city. Your parents died…it…it was a shooting on the Upper Level."_

 _Anna's eyes snapped to his, and he could almost_ feel _the emotional despair and agony coursing throughout her chest as time seemed to stop around them. Her mouth parted in incomprehension at the news, the words that hit her so hard in the heart that it threatened to stop beating._

" _They…" she faintly repeated, hoping it was a mistake, hoping that it was all a nightmare and she was going to wake up soon. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she gazed into his for confirmation, that it was all a horrible joke…but there was no respite._

" _I'm so, so sorry." he muttered, shaking his head almost imperceptibly as that look returned._

_She simply stared at him, numb to everything else in the fairly spacious drop-ship cabin as she realised that, in one night, she had lost her parents, become an abnormal and left everything behind. Numb to the sound of the engines humming outside, to the ceasing of the scuffle in front. Numb to the expression of burgeoning curiosity from the man called Pitch…and numb to the rising temperature within the drop-ship, and the flickering glow of flames growing in her hands._

_She did notice the anxious glancing of his eyes between her face and her new born flames, and she realised that in her grief, her clothes and the blanket were beginning to burn. Her heart went from almost frozen still to thunderous as it shot into her mouth, and with a seemingly herculean effort she willed the flames away, watching as they dwindled and faded out of existence, leaving only the acrid smoke of burning material._

" _Hey…it's okay. I'm here."_

_His comforting murmurs were the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, and in a movement that surprised herself she threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder, letting her wailing grief escape through her mouth and her tears, her body jerking with each involuntary movement._

" _T-there's something w-wrong with m-me…" she cried into the material of his utility vest, her body tensing when his arms delicately wrapped themselves around her and held her close and with comfort._

" _No, Anna. Don't say that. You're just different now…"_

_Her sobs paused as she pulled away from him, not quite understanding his words, nor the deep sympathy that rode on every syllable. He smiled into her eyes and thumbed away her tears, before pulling her back into another embrace that felt as soft as a cloud before speaking with all the firmness and conviction in the world._

"… _and there is_ nothing _wrong with that."_

* * *

 

 _Location: Zone Fourteen (formerly Indiana)_  
_Date: Same Day_  
_Time: 20:30_

"Why was Streak giving you the stink-eye on the way here?" came Pitch's curious voice from his left. The taller Ghost was focused on observing the northern road for the first sign of the convoy, and though his voice was muffled by his own mask – a silhouette of a nightmare with its head at Pitch's jawbone and the tendrils that comprised its main tracing along the mask towards his mouth – the question was easily heard and understood.

Jack smirked behind his mask as he chuckled to himself. He had created a reputation for himself aboard the  _Guardian Star_  as an incorrigible prankster, almost the living incarnation of Loki, the god of mischief. So far, nearly every person on the ship had fallen victim to his shenanigans, but judging by the faces of Kristoff and Anna when they entered the Ghost leader's quarters, it was his best yet.

It was also one that earned him another whap to the back of his head, and a burning sensation on his ass…which wasn't surprising as it was literally aflame. He opened his mouth to answer his ally's question, but Streak got there first, her voice resonating in both men's earpieces.

" _Harvester and I wanted some time together, if you know what I mean. So, we opened the door to his quarters…and what do we find? Frosty lying on Harvester's bed like some sultry temptress or nude art model with this playful smirk on his face, saying "I've been waiting for you. Draw me like one of your French girls…"_

Jack snorted into laughter at the memory. It was true, he knew what they were going to be doing, so he snuck into his squad leader's quarters and parked himself on the bed, his left hand holding up his head while his right rested seductively on his hip, and his right leg leaning forward as though he was beckoning them to bed. The looks of surprise and more than a little indignant anger on their faces was priceless, and well worth the flames on his ass. Even Pitch had difficulty reining in his own mirth, the sniggers coming out loud and clear.

" _I don't think it beats the time he put dragon-nip in my leg…"_  Night Fury groaned in their ears, and Jack couldn't hold back the laughter now,  _"seriously, Toothless would_ not _leave it alone."_

" _Cut the chatter, Ghosts,"_ Harvester snapped over the com-line,  _"the convoy is about a mile out. Pitch, do you have visual?"_

The taller Ghost muttered something to the software he called Onyx in his goggles, and tensed as the picture zoomed in.

"B-i-n-g-o and jackpot was his name-o. I see it. Five vehicles, moving toward the northern entrance."

"I also count thirty enemy troops inside the depot," Jack added, "and maybe more in the barracks. Request permission to infiltrate and incapacitate – the less fighting we have to do when Night Fury strikes, the better."

There was a brief pause over the com-line, and he could almost see Harvester weighing the options. In his mind, the choice was clear, as it was in Pitch's. If they were quiet enough, they could easily incapacitate at least a third of the base's troops before Night Fury attacked, thereby making the truck hijack and the subsequent firefight a lot kinder to them.

" _Granted. You've got ten minutes before Night Fury hits the tower. Remember, non-lethal."_

Jack's only word was a quick  _"copy"_  and, like a flash, he and Pitch drew themselves up and sprinted down the hill towards the northwest part of the fence, adrenaline coursing through their bodies and fuelling their rapid movement, the sound of thunderous heart beats ringing in their ears. Reaching the steel chain link fencing that surrounded the depot, Pitch shouldered his stun-rifle and whipped it left and right, scanning every single corner and path ready to drop anyone unfortunate enough to appear, while Jack set to work with a pair of wire-cutters, clipping link after link to create a hole big enough for them to crouch through.

"Remember to watch your six, Frost." Pitch muttered pointedly, following Jack through the newly created gap towards the wall of the closest single-floor barracks and returning his rifle to its ready position.

"Why? I have you for that." Jack sniggered, carefully sliding towards the corner of the building – and in the space of about two seconds, he darted his head around the corner and back. Pitch cocked his masked head for an explanation, which came in the form of Jack showing two fingers, clenching a fist and extending it horizontally away from him, and finally a finger pointed to the sky. Two soldiers in a line abreast formation wielding rifles. Pitch gave him the  _"a-ok"_  hand signal, and tensed the rifle against his shoulder while Jack slung his behind his back, his body tensing like a coiled snake.

It happened within seconds, and it was over within seconds. As soon as the two soldiers rounded the corner on their nightly patrol, Jack lunged forward and grabbed the first man's head, wrapping his left arm around his neck while the right hand kept it firmly still, while Pitch fired a single shot into the other soldier's shoulder, then in one fluid movement dropped his rifle and thrust his hand forward like a surging cobra. A thick tendril of shadow-sand thrust out from his spine and darted towards the hapless soldier, wrapping itself around his neck and yanking him toward the attacking Ghost and out of sight of the main compound.

Jack kept the crook of his elbow against the first soldier's throat, using the pressure to squeeze his carotid artery…and after about eight seconds of struggling, he felt the man go limp in his arm, the fight having left his body as he was forced into unconsciousness. As he let the man drop with a muffled thud and fired a single stun bolt into his chest with the rifle to make sure he would be out, Jack glanced at his squad-mate…and hissed exasperatedly at the sight.

"Harvester said non-lethal!"

Pitch gave him incredulous, which was ironic given that one of his sand-tendrils was strangling the guard against the wall, suspending him eight inches from the floor.

"This  _is_  non-lethal, Frost."

"Pitch, you're suffocating him. He already blacked out. Knock it off." Jack ordered, gesturing to the ground to punctuate his point.

The taller Ghost narrowed his eyes, and then reluctantly decided to relent. Mentally uncoiling the sand-tendril from around his throat, the guard fell to the ground with an unceremonious  _thump,_ completely inert but mercifully still breathing. Jack mouthed a mildly sarcastic  _"thank you"_ , and then proceeded to crouch and search through the unconscious men's utility vests for anything that could be useful – which happened to be three stun-grenades apiece and a few power cells for the stun rifles. He shot his squad-mate another glare as he tossed half of them over, and slipped the cells into the empty pockets of his utility vest.

"You just want to suck the joy out of everything..." Pitch grumbled, catching the grenades and clipping them to his vest while the tendril of sand retreated into his spine. Jack's retort was simple; a smirk, a raised eyebrow and a middle finger.

By now, the convoy was slowly making its way into the centre of the depot, so most of the base's personnel except for those either off-duty or specifically ordered to remain in their buildings were busy dealing with the new arrival – this meant that the Ghosts' job would be even easier…but they were running out of time. They had about two minutes before they would hear a certain dragon herald its attack, so they had to move quickly.

* * *

 

"How's the mission going?"

Kristoff was so immersed in the unfolding raid that he barely noticed the comparatively diminutive form of Hiro sidling up beside him, and as he was at  _least_  head and shoulders taller all he could see of the fourteen year old's head was the black, messy hair. Hiro's eyes darted left and right, taking in every inch of the supply depot's blueprints and smirking with pride.

"How did you get in here? You're not a Ghost." Kristoff protested, which prompted his companion to cast his eyes up and give him a mild expression of exasperated incredulity, as though he was talking to a small child.

"Well, your door isn't exactly secure right now, and I wanted to see how my software is performing. Looks like it's doing pretty well! Which it should because…you know, _I_  programmed it." Half a smirk this time, to garnish the light arrogance in his tone.

Kristoff had to severely restrain himself from visiting upon Hiro's head that which twice befell Jack's, so he turned his gaze back to the unfolding scene. Two dots had split away from each other, and a third waited patiently near the south gate.

"This is…actually kind of boring. Hey, I could bring up a video feed if you want? Much more entertaining!" Hiro chattered brightly, and without waiting for the go-ahead pulled a glass tablet from his purple hooded sweater, brought up a full screen of indecipherable coding and began tapping something far too fast for Kristoff to even discern.

"…entertaining? Do you think this-?" he began, but a sequence of radio transmissions stopped that rebuke in its tracks, their voices resonating from the  _Uni-Com_ screen in front of him. Repeated utterings of  _"breaching–fire in the hole –clear!"_  reached his ears, leading him to assume that Jack and Pitch were quietly opening doors to the supply depot's buildings, tossing stun grenades inside and waiting for them to explode, then the muffled sounds of energy bolts indicating the shooting of any guards that came to investigate the strange noises.

"…and…done! I added a video wavelength to our communications, so we can see what they see!" Hiro announced proudly, and within seconds four small video images appeared at each corner of the screen, showcasing real-time transmissions of the raid, each with the names of each Ghost. Jack and Pitch were sneaking towards different doors with the ends of their rifles pointing in front of them like a live-action first-person shooter. Streak's screen remained still and focused on the southern gate, while Night Fury's vision was firmly fixed on the communication tower from several thousand feet in the air as he circled the depot, Toothless' jet black left wing occasionally obscuring the screen with each flap.

"Not bad, Glitch…" Kristoff offered, his mouth thinning into an impressed line. Hiro gaped, amazed at the almost noncommittal tone to the burly man's voice.

"Not bad?  _Not bad?!_  Hey, I just made it even better! I-" he protested.

" _Glitch, is it? Will you kindly shut the fuck up? Your voice is incredibly distracting."_ Pitch hissed from the speakers, much to the muffled chuckling from each Ghost along with the less-than-subtle snort of laughter from Kristoff. Hiro, unsurprisingly, went a bright shade of red and was instantly quiet.

" _Frost to Harvester,"_  Jack's voice erupted from the screen's speakers,  _"we're all set. Ready when you are."_

"Copy that. Harvester to Night Fury. You're up." Kristoff relayed, and with a reply of  _"copy that, going in"_  they watched as rather than circle the depot, the view from Hiccup's goggles suddenly took a steep dive towards the southwest corner of the base, at a speed that would make the stomachs of lesser people lurch. Hiro watched with eager anticipation as, heralded by an ear-splitting shriek over the open com-line, a lightning-fast ball of blue fire erupted from Toothless' mouth and impacted the tower, destroying it in a satisfying explosion. Seconds later, blue bolts of light shot across the screens belonging to Jack and Pitch, while Anna's screen began to shake wildly as she sprinted towards the south gate, popping off two quick stun bolts to incapacitate the now alerted guards.

So far, it was going well…but he couldn't dissuade the increasingly unsettled feeling in his stomach that something wasn't quite right.

* * *

 

Despite the nature of their 'career', Anna was proud to be a Ghost.

Seconds after stunning the guards at the southern gate, Anna sprinted inside and sharply darted to the right along the inner fencing, anxious to avoid drawing too much attention. Thankfully, the distraction that her squad-mates Frost and Pitch were providing was more than adequate to give her a relatively free run towards the convoy hover-trucks, all five of which were parked inside a warehouse ready to be unloaded. One of which, the left-most truck which contained the crates of food was half-full, with the unloaded pallets abandoned outside – probably as a result of the vicious firefight taking place – waiting to be taken to the main storehouse next door.

The reason she was proud was largely because despite being outnumbered at least ten to one, Jack and Pitch were effortlessly dominating the battle. She could hear the trash-talk of her best friend over the com-line –  _"Missed!" "Oh, come on! You suck, seriously!" "Where was_ that _supposed to go?" "Where did you learn to shoot?" –_ and smirked with morbid amusement as she heard Pitch count each soldier that he had stunned…he was up to four so far. She even entertained the thought that they might actually make a clean getaway this time.

It was a thought that she shook from her mind as she quietly entered the rear door to the warehouse, her goggles automatically switching to normal vision upon the change in surroundings. She shouldered her stun-rifle and levelled her aim, pointing it left and right as she slowly crept inside the warehouse, pausing briefly at any conceivable corner or hiding place that Unity soldiers or depot staff could be. Her finger hugged the trigger so closely she nearly let loose a few stun bolts at some innocent pallet lifters.

" _I think it's clear!"_ she heard the bright voice of Hiro over the com-line, and muttered a sarcastic  _"thank you, Glitch"_ in retort. She knew he was only trying to help, and an extra pair of eyes never hurt…but still, her adrenaline was raging so strongly that she couldn't help but snap.

Her legs kicked into action, and the clumping of her feet echoed around the hollow building as she quickly made her way to the rear of the fifth truck. The pull-down shutters that kept the contents secret had already been opened in preparation, and abandoned when the firefight broke out between her team-mates and the guards. One crate of fuel cells had already been opened by the looks of things, and she could see the twelve inch long cylinders poking out of the top. Contained by glass and metal caps on both sides, the energy within the fuel cell cylinders illuminated the truck's cargo container in a dim, orange light, reminding her of lazy evenings round a camp fire on the deck of the  _Star_. Hugging the truck itself, she snuck around to the driver's side door…and froze when it opened in front of her.

The man stepped out of the vehicle and watched the frenetic display with interest, his back to the Ghost behind him, oblivious to all else that moved. Anna decided to show off a little for those watching at home, and leaning with her elbow against the wall of the truck's cargo trailer, she called out in the coyest voice she could muster under the circumstances.

"Hey there, handsome."

The driver whirled around with shock upon hearing the unfamiliar feminine voice, and his eyes went wide as he came face to face with the Ghost, who cheekily winked at him from under her goggles.

"Freak!" he hissed with surprise, and fumbled for his stunner pistol in an attempt to drop her…but she was  _way_ too fast for that. She graciously let him have the few seconds he needed to level it at her face, but in a display of dazzlingly quick reflexes, she weaved to the left, grabbed his arm with both of her hands, twisted it around his back to pin it behind him, and as he yelped in pain and dropped the pistol, she let go of his hands to catch it with her left, pushed her boot into his ass to kick him forward, and then swiftly levelled the pistol's aim at his chest. He didn't even have a chance to turn around before she hit him with a stun bolt, the blue torpedo of energy causing a cascade reaction in his central nervous system and rendering him completely unconscious.

" _Niiice."_ was Kristoff's only word, and she could practically see the expression of impressed pride on his face.

She climbed into the dimly lit and recently vacated driver's cabin with a pleased smirk on her rosy, mask-covered features, popping off another stun shot at the hapless co-driver who was too busy watching the bigger firefight to notice. Checking to see that the master-key that activated the truck was still in its receptacle just to the right of the steering wheel, she pushed the accelerator lever halfway towards the dash. The hover-engines hummed into life, lifting the cargo vehicle a foot and a half from the floor, and with a confident smile she began to guide the truck out of the warehouse.

" _How many you got?"_ asked Jack over the com-line, evidently treating the battle as a competition between him and Pitch.

" _Seven."_  was the cool and non-committal answer from the taller Ghost.

" _Hah! I've got eight! You're too slow, Pitch, you-"_

" _Eight."_

" _What?!"_ Jack groaned in dismay,  _"that one doesn't count; I shot him before you did!"_

" _Suck it up, Frost. You would get more if you weren't – nine – so busy trash-talking."_

" _You wait until we get back, I'm gonna-"_

"Girls," Anna dryly groaned over the line in an effort to shut them up, "you're  _both_  pretty."

She made the right turn towards the depot's north gate, and thrust the accelerator lever forward turning the gentle humming of the engines into a loud buzzing…whilst taking the time to throw a fireball out of her window at two guards that were hidden behind the corner of one of the barracks buildings taking pot-shots at her vehicle. As she glanced at the wing mirror, she chuckled as the explosion forced them to break cover, only to be dropped by two highly accurate shots from Jack, judging by the jeering over the com-line.

It took surprisingly little time for her to reach the Ghosts' personal drop-ship  _Tooth Fairy_ under full acceleration, covering the two miles in approximately five minutes. She practically kicked off the driver's side door to slide out onto the cold grass, and as she rounded the truck to begin moving the crates of fuel cells into the personnel-slash-cargo hold of the  _Fairy,_  she heard something over the com-line that sent a flurry of disquiet through her heart and stomach.

" _Frost, did you miscount? You said there were thirty in the base, and we've both hit fifteen, so why is there more coming?"_

" _What do I look like, a census-taker?! Just shoot 'em!"_

It was also then that she heard the sound of a hover-car approach from the other side of the  _Fairy_ , the sensation that something wasn't quite right only deepened when she heard the slamming of four doors along with the muffled voice of one man grunting orders, the huge bulk of the  _Hela-_ class drop-ship preventing her from discerning the man's words.

She quickly darted inside the  _Fairy_ , hiding behind the first crate of cells that she managed to push on board before hearing Pitch's prior uneasy question, and levelled her stun-rifle at the boarding ramp, waiting for the people to round the corner…hoping she would be able to take down at least two before she was noticed, and with anxious, quick breaths she tightened her finger around the trigger upon hearing slow, heavy footsteps from the  _Fairy's_  port side…and her breathing then hitched in her throat when she heard a quiet hiss from near the exit ramp, just out of sight.

"Flash!"

Blinking, she was so surprised by the sudden utterance of their code-phrase, only used in situations where they hear someone coming but don't know precisely  _who_  they are, that her mind drew a blank as to the answer.

" _Flash!"_  it came again, harsher and possessed of urgency this time, and the abrupt tone kicked her memory into action.

"Thunder!" she hissed back, and sighed with relief upon seeing a familiar face poke around the port side of the ship, sporting what the owner of the face liked to call _'the smoulder'_.

Eugene "Flynn Rider" Fitzherbert cocked a half-smirk, eyeing the rifle she still pointed at him in a moment of absent-mindedness. He was the leader of Scout Team Red, a small five-man abnormal unit that tracked supply and prison convoys then reported their location and direction to the Ghosts, who would then hit the truck and disappear with either imprisoned abnormals or well-needed supplies. In fact, it was thanks to them that Kristoff even knew about that particular convoy. Dressed in olive-green and brown camouflage gear – scavenged from pre-war U.S. Army forts, naturally – with a black utility vest, he was very good at tracking and stalking Unity patrols without being seen, and his ability to learn at a rapid rate was something that was incredibly useful, especially when in a matter of seconds he once worked out how to use a frying pan like a swashbuckler would wield a rapier, defeating four Unity clones in quick succession with his impressive close-combat skills.

Kristoff once offered him membership among the Ghosts but he refused, citing the fact that he hated being cooped up in the  _Star_. He needed to keep moving, to never stay in the same place for long.

"What are you doing here, Flynn?" she hissed anxiously. Scout Team Red was supposed to merely shadow the convoy and then move on when it reached the depot, but something had to have happened for them to make an appearance, and that only made the twist of uncertainty in her gut all the more tighter – especially when  _'the smoulder'_  became  _'the grim'._

"I need the radio frequency code you're using for home base." he stated simply.

"We're using code four…" she answered, and watched as Eugene fiddled with the dials on the radio clipped to his vest and, with two fingers on his earpiece, spoke with urgency and firmness.

"Harvester, this is Flynn. Copy?"

" _Copy. What's the deal, Flynn? Why am I looking at you right now?"_

" _Oh hey, Flynn,"_ Jack piped up cheerily, his interruption being another example of his disrespect towards other people's conversations,  _"how's your girlfriend…motherfucker, you did_ not _just shoot that blue shit at me!"_

"We broke up," he answered, rolling his eyes, "anyway, we have a problem. Team Red and I circled the depot just as Night Fury blew the tower, and we spotted at least five six-man clone squads lying in wait."

" _Repeat that..."_  Pitch piped up this time, and his voice was decidedly concerned.

* * *

 

"He means," Kristoff snapped at the Uni-Com, prompting an anxious glance from the fourteen year-old beside him, "they knew we were going to hit the depot. I knew it. I knew it didn't feel right."

He began to pace the  _Star_ 's briefing room in deep consternation, anxious that in addition to the thirty that Jack, Pitch and Hiccup were already fighting, there were at  _least_  thirty clone units advancing on the depot, and judging by Pitch's remark earlier as to Jack's counting skills, some were already there.

" _What do you want us to do?"_  Eugene asked over the line, his voice eager for their next move. Kristoff took a moment to think, lacing an arm across his chest and using his other hand to stroke his chin.

"One of you stays with Streak to help her load the  _Fairy_. Rest of you, go and support Pitch and Frost. If we're lucky, we can make it out of this in one piece."

" _Roger. You heard the man, ladies. I'll stay and help Streak. Saddle up, lock and load."_

Kristoff watched through Anna's screen as four other men ran back to their hover jeep and drove off in the direction of the compound, and as Eugene assisted her in moving another crate into the  _Fairy's_  hold. He was so focused on the unfolding scene that the quiet, but worried voice of Hiro jerked him so harshly from his grim thoughts that he hadn't realised he had been holding his breath out of tension.

"Who does this red dot belong to?" the young boy asked, pointing to one that was flitting between buildings – and sometimes on top of them – with surprising speed and agility.

"That's Frost." Kristoff tersely snapped.

"Uh-huh, and that one?" he asked again, pointing at one that was slowly yet efficiently moving from cover to cover.

"Pitch…"

"Okay, so the one that's circling the depot, that's Night Fury?"

"Uh-huh."

"…and the one that's to the north, that's Streak?"

"You got it." the taller Ghost groaned, rolling his eyes. It felt like talking to a small child.

"Cool, cool. So, what about that white one?" Hiro asked, pointing to the south. A small white dot had appeared on the Uni-Com glass screen, and it was advancing upon the depot with respectable speed.

"What white…" Kristoff snapped again, but followed Hiro's finger. A surge of nerves jolted his mind into action, and with a commanding bark he practically yelled into his earpiece.

"Night Fury, break off. Bogey sighted south, five minutes out. Can you confirm?"

Hiccup's response was silent as the screen changed from a bird's eye view of the battle to pure black sky, and as though hearing Kristoff's thoughts, the view changed from darkness to green, indicating that he had switched on his night vision. It only took them a few minutes to hear the dragon-rider's next few words which dropped a ball of fear into every Ghost's gut.

" _Oh, shit…"_

"Jesus Christ…they're too early…"

Kristoff and Hiro watched with growing worry as Hiccup's goggles zoomed in twice, and fixed upon a Unity drop-ship, one that had angelic white wings painted across the main composite wing that supported the ionic thrust engines, currently blasting at full speed towards the depot…followed by three other unpainted drop-ships in a diamond formation.

" _What? Who's early? What's going on?_ " Jack hissed over the com-line.

"It's a trap, Frost. The Valkyries are coming…"

* * *

_COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS): **03:05:05:20:15**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reiterating what I mentioned in the last chapter - if you see something that's unexplained or something doesn't look right, it's intended. I'm kind of doing the thing that J. Michael Straczynski did with Babylon 5, and that's drop something in one episode and explore it later. The rise of Unity and the Empyrean Alliance, along with the origin of the abnormals will be explained.
> 
> Nevertheless, feel free to ask questions, and I shall try to answer them without spoiling the story.
> 
> Many thanks for reading my humble fic, and for the kudos and comments!
> 
> Theme for this chapter was: Prelude to War - Bear McCreary, Battlestar Galactica OST
> 
> For the Ghosts,
> 
> Furiyan


	4. Live to Fight Another Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reiterating the presence of violence and bad language here.

_She was held in his arms for some time, letting the choking sobs of grief claw their way out of her throat, but throughout every minute that she cried, he held her closely and tightly. It was a strange embrace, she noted after the fact, as it felt like he was holding back. It wasn't a hug of someone who disliked her, or someone who was uncomfortable with physical contact and therefore would respond somewhat awkwardly to the offer of an embrace._

_No, this was the hold of someone who was scared they would break something, as though they held in their hands a precious glass sculpture, one that would shatter upon the slightest touch._

_Initially, she thought it was a reflection upon her, like her fiery, feisty soul was something to be bubble-wrapped and kept on a pedestal away from prying eyes and touching hands…but as she later found out, it was not the case. Where Jack Frost had the ability to create and manipulate ice and harness the wind to fly like a bird, and Pitch Black could manipulate the darkness within into powerful constructs of black sand – and as she found out earlier, create literal night-mares so he could join Frost and Night Fury in the sky – Kristoff's gift was less ostentatious than a blizzard or a sand storm and more subtle, but every bit as life-changing._

_She came face-to-face with his gift when, in a moment of proving that he was one of them, with one hand he lifted the ten ton Draugr-class drop-ship as though it was a couch and there was something under it that he misplaced. She learned that he had to be very conscious of how he touched, pushed, pulled, or even held something, in case he irrevocably damaged or destroyed it. He had to treat every door handle like it was an empty eggshell, every hand-shake like brittle glass…and every person like they would shatter under the slightest touch._

_She learned that his skill in control and restraint was something learned over a long time, in his three years as a Ghost and the time before then. He mentioned that he once got mildly irritated when a clone pushed a stun-rifle into his chest to goad him, so with one swift movement he gripped the barrel of the rifle, crushed it like it was paper and then punched the hapless soldier's head clean off. It scared her, if she were to be honest, but something in the way he held her spoke to her mind and heart, that he would never hurt her._

_Of all the men that she had met a few hours ago, it was to him that she felt connected the most, especially when he fought her corner about twenty minutes after her grief-stricken sobs had ceased. She heard every word of the hushed conversation between the three Ghosts, but kept quiet. She was still coming to terms with the ordeal, after all._

" _Harvester, I need a minute." Pitch hissed, nodding towards the cockpit where he and Frost were still piloting the drop-ship to, as far as Anna was concerned, an unknown destination. All she could really see was the sky, and how the black was giving way to deep, rich purple as the sun began its inexorable daily duty as the caretaker of the heavens._

" _I'll be right back," he muttered, his warm smile lingering as he rose from the personnel bench and walked to the cockpit, "what's the matter, Pitch?"_

" _The matter is her surname. I didn't think anything of it at first, but it just hit me – Snowfield…as in House Snowfield. Does it ring any bells, o glorious leader?"_

_Anna caught Kristoff shrug out of the corner of her eye, and she knew what was coming. She was fully aware of what her parents, as scientists, had been doing in the three or four years prior to their deaths, and how it would affect the abnormal population, tiny as it was._

" _Yeah, her parents came up with the abnormality suppression vaccine. Why?"_

" _She is the daughter of the very people who have given Unity a way of suppressing our gifts, our way of life, and we're taking her to the Star…to our_ home? _Are you insane?" the taller, black-haired Ghost hissed, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect. Naturally, Anna felt quite offended at that and judging by the rather reprimanding snarl from the white-haired man, so did he._

" _It doesn't matter if she's a member of House Snowfield, House Larsen or House Party. It doesn't matter if her parents created a nuke that could wipe out the world in one hit. She's one of us, which means we treat her with every damn bit of respect that we would treat any other abnormal, Snowfield or not. We protect her, we teach her, and we look after her. It's as simple as that."_

" _But-" Pitch tried to protest, but Kristoff interrupted as though he wasn't speaking anyway._

" _Frost is right, and you know it. You're outvoted, Kozmotis."_

_The once-protesting man fell silent, though he still wore the scowl of defeat – but in that moment, Anna felt grateful for the two Ghosts that fought her corner against one of their own. For better or worse, she was a part of something now, something bigger than herself, and though she was forced to leave her old life behind…maybe, just maybe, her new life would be worth living._

_However, her first step would be to get her feet on solid ground…and that moment was fast approaching._

" _Hey," she called out, her eyes fixed on the back of Kristoff's shaggy blonde head, "where_ are _we going, anyway?"_

_All three men turned toward her, and with his head just above the pilot's seat Frost wore a wide smirk of promise and anticipation, like he had a surprise behind his back and was just waiting to unveil it, and with two fingers he beckoned her over to them._

" _The Guardian Star. She's our base of operations…and a home for any abnormal that needs it."_

" _Where is it…I mean, she?" she asked, navigating the way to the cockpit with both hands holding on to the ceiling rigging to keep herself steady._

" _Right over there," he said fondly, then his tone changed as he spoke into his headset, "Guardian Star, this is the Yeti, requesting permission to land…"_

" _Yeti, this is the Star. Permission granted. Food's warm and beds made. Come on home." was the crackled buoyant reply over the radio attached to Frost's utility vest._

_He pointed to his left as he banked the drop-ship, and as she leaned over the pilot's chair she gasped quietly as she saw what her new home would be._

_Carving a lazy line through the Atlantic Ocean below, like a huge steel grey water-borne creature, was an old Nimitz-class U.S. Navy aircraft carrier, a relic of the Third World War, thought decommissioned long ago after the rise of Unity. Evidently, like the abnormals themselves, the Star was not so easily quelled._

" _Welcome to your new home." Kristoff spoke behind her as he placed a gentle hand upon her right shoulder, the words inflected in such a way that could only mean he was wearing a smile…and for the first time in what felt like forever, Anna nursed the warm sensation of belonging to a family…_

… _and coming home._

* * *

 _Location: Briefing Room, Guardian Star_  
Date: Same Day  
Time: 20:55

Even though the video screens meant that he was only a vicarious part of the battle, Kristoff knew by the way that Jack and Pitch looked at each other through their goggles that his words had struck a chord of fear within the Ghosts. Pitch had taken cover behind the corner of one the barracks buildings, while Jack was perched on the roof of the warehouse itself, and the understanding of those words had caused them to cease shooting in stomach-churning realisation. Pitch was the first to recover, taking down two clone troops with accurate head shots, but it took a few stray pulse bolts narrowly missing Jack's head for him to come back to reality.

" _Okay. Valkyries are coming. No problem."_ Jack muttered over the com-line, though Kristoff wasn't sure whether it was less of a self-strengthening statement or words of confidence.

" _What do you want us to do, Harvester?"_  Pitch asked, and Kristoff watched as the black-haired Ghost retreated behind cover, pressed the power-cell release button just above the trigger, pulled out a clear glass rectangle and slid a dimly glowing orange one in its place.

"Streak and Flynn need time to load up the  _Fairy._  The rest of Scout Team Red is inbound to provide support. I need you all to buy time for them to finish. We  _need_  those fuel cells, and as you're fighting clones...lethal force."

" _Got it,"_  said Jack in bright acknowledgement, the prospect of a plan giving him some focus,  _"Pitch, are you up to a bit of gratuitous violence on these jokers?"_

" _Always."_ said his cohort, and to emphasise the point for those watching at home, the screen showed his left hand darting out to guide a sharp sand-tendril into the ribcage of a hapless clone, lifted him off the ground, and then used him to bludgeon his squad-mates into submission.

"Night Fury, I need you to do something you're not going to like." Kristoff spoke in a voice that danced between commanding and apologetic as his eyes flicked to the green-hued screen belonging to the team's air support.

"… _and that is?"_

"Blow those Valkyries to hell and back."

"… _I'm scared,"_ Night Fury sarcastically replied over the comms,  _"hold me, Toothless!"_

* * *

The Valkyries'  _Hela-class_  drop-ship  _Valhalla_  felt, as it always did, vastly superior to the  _Draugr-class_  ships that Elsa learnt to pilot two years ago. It boasted increased manoeuvrability, speed and above all, two rotary pulse cannons attached to the main fuselage. It was lighter, easier to handle, and definitely a vessel of war.

The increased agility was about to save their lives.

"We're three minutes out. Valkyries, suit up." Elsa ordered, her eyes fixed upon the distant battle. Even from several miles away, she could see where the communications tower burned like a signal to the gods, and miniscule flashes of blue denoting a fierce battle was taking place…

…and in the midst of that battle was her target.

"What's the plan, Snow Queen?"

Elsa didn't even incline her head to acknowledge Rapunzel's question, mechanically distorted behind the intimidating mask that she and the entire Valkyrie team wore. In fact, their entire uniform was designed to threaten and unnerve - with state-of-the-art specialist body armour that hugged the body for mobility in hand-to-hand combat, wrap-around combat masks that sported technologically advanced goggles and rebreather units for toxic atmospheres, and a three quarter length leather trench coat with an attached hood, all in jet black, they looked every inch the warriors designed to inspire fear.

"We'll land outside the south gate, make our way into the depot, find the Ghosts and incapacitate them. Non-lethal only, but don't be afraid to beat them into submission if that's what it takes."

"Yer really goin' after this Frost laddie, aren't ye?" Merida's distorted voice appeared, the question falling on deaf ears, no words leaving the lips of the Snow Queen.

"Yeah, Bear. She…hang on…what's that?" Rapunzel began, but trailed off as she pointed out of the cockpit screen. Elsa's eyes followed her team-mate's finger, and they rested upon a soft but bright blue glow coming towards them. She narrowed her eyes to thin slits as the light came closer…

…a narrowing that became a widening of horrified realisation.

"Hold on!" she yelled, and sharply wrenched the control column to the right. The  _Valhalla_ responded quickly, banking right to avoid a blisteringly fast torpedo of blue fire as it shot past the cockpit, illuminating the interior in a split-second flash of light. The ship violently shuddered as the torpedo of fire clipped the port fuselage, the wailing siren and the  _Valhalla's_ diagnostic A.I.'s feminine, good-natured utters of  _"pulse cannons…offline"_  indicating the damage that a single glancing hit could do.

Of course, the drop-ship following them wasn't so lucky, and as the other three Valkyries rushed to the port side to peer out into the sky, they were shocked to see its fuselage completely disintegrate in a deafening explosion, thankfully muffled by the metal hull around them.

"Holy shit…" Merida gasped, and then pointed out of the porthole window, " _holy shit!_  Look!"

All eyes except Elsa's followed Merida's finger as it gestured at the left dropship…

…on top of which a jet black winged creature was perched, illuminated by the ethereal light of a full moon and a blue glow tracing along its spine and head, its claws gripping into the metal with such force that holes had been gouged into the fuselage. It let loose an ear-splitting shriek before it darted its head forward, clamped its jaws around the starboard composite wing and effortlessly  _tore_ it from the main body, then shot off into the night under a hail of red pulse cannon fire from the other ship, leaving its victim to spiral helplessly to the ground.

All Elsa could hear over the com-line was screaming as the clones fell to their fiery deaths.

"Fuck me…" Merida murmured, "we  _really_  need tae take these guys down. Come on, lasses. Let's get ready…hey, Viking? Are ye alright? Earth to Viking, can ye come in please?"

"Huh…wha…" Astrid muttered, barely registering the question, then re-asserting herself as she slowly turned her head from the porthole and met Merida's masked gaze, "oh, yeah. I'm fine. It's just…that thing is scary."

"If the Viking is spooked," Elsa coldly spoke over the mask's com-line, "when we land in one minute, she can stay here and  _hide_."

"Fuck you, Snow Queen." Astrid hissed in an indignant retort, silently noting to herself to never mention what she saw.

In addition to watching the creature easily tear apart a state-of-the-art drop-ship, she also saw its rider. The silent Ghost, his face covered by a mask and goggles, his medium-length hair whipping dangerously with the air rushing past him.

He was looking right at her.

The unnerving sensation had to be, and was, quickly put aside by the brash Valkyrie as with her typical cold voice and the accompanying descent of the drop-ship, Elsa announced they had thirty seconds before they were joining the fray.

Part of her hoped she would meet this rider on the battlefield, the rest of her wasn't so sure.

* * *

"Ever get the feeling somebody doesn't like you?"

No matter the situation, no matter how close the threat of capture or death, Jack's sardonic and dry wit was  _always_  present, even to the point of inconvenient annoyance. Huddled behind a small chest-high wall of solid ice that Jack created for cover in the centre of the depot, stun bolts zipping overhead from all directions, the situation was feeling less like a close victory and more like a last stand. Nevertheless he was sure to provide morbid humour, even if it did earn a somewhat acidic retort from Pitch.

" _No-one_  likes you, Frost." the taller Ghost scoffed as he raised the rifle above cover and popped off a few blind shots.

"That hurts," Jack deadpanned, placing a hand over his heart in mock offence, "seriously, you wound me."

Pitch laughed, ducking a little when a stray bolt came a little too close for comfort over the increasingly damaged wall of ice.

"If it's any consolation," Pitch smirked behind his mask, "I dislike  _you_  the least."

"Awww. That makes me feel so fluffy inside. Serious bromance going on here!" Jack pretended to swoon with the back of his right hand against his head, which then instantly went to his staff to jab it into the neck of a clone that peered over the wall of ice, letting loose a storm of icy lightning into the victim's body.

"Fuck off, Frost. Anyway, remember that pact we made in Mexico?"

"What, bros before hos?" Jack looked genuinely confused as he spoke.

"No, you spoon, the other one." Pitch rolled his eyes.

"Oh…"

Jack's goggled gaze flicked down to the energy pistol resting in Pitch's right hand which, like his own sidearm, was running low on power and only had enough for a few shots. Instead of a line of shimmering blue that cut along the side of the barrel, it was glowing red – which indicated the kill setting, and he was greeted with the memories of the last time he heard Pitch talk in such a way. Four years ago, shortly before a seek-and-destroy mission, Pitch turned to Jack and explained that he would rather die than be captured alive and experimented on by Unity, so if it looked like there was no hope…he was going to set his pistol to the kill setting and shoot himself in the head. He considered capture as dishonourable; therefore it was a case of death before dishonour. At the time, Jack wholeheartedly agreed.

"Yeah…why not. I always wanted to go out with a bang or in this case, pew." he shrugged, setting his own sidearm to kill mode.

Pitch nodded respectfully before quickly darting his head above and back down the dwindling ice wall.

"Well, that moment may come sooner than you think. I count at least forty, and they're all advancing this way. We can't count on Team Red arriving in time. We'll take down as many as we can…but save the last shot, remember?"

Jack nodded, and his hands gripped his staff and the pistol that little bit tighter.

"On three," he said with sober intent, "we take down as many as we can, then…you know. One..."

" _Don't do it!"_ yelled Anna over the com-line.

Pitch shuffled from his slumped position against the wall, ready to dart up and let fly with red bolts of death.

"…two…"

They didn't get to three, as with a deafening buzzing that sounded almost like a feral roar to the ears of the two pinned Ghosts, Scout Team Red's hover jeep rounded the makeshift ice cover, with what would have been called a  _'handbrake turn'_  over a century ago. Jack poked his head above the wall, surprised and amazed to see the vehicle block the Ghosts from any further volleys of stun-bolt fire while one of the team opened a can of whoop-ass on the troopers with the rotary pulse cannon mounted on the back, scavenged from the wreckage of a crashed  _Hela-_ class dropship three months ago. They could hear the anguished yells of the unfortunate troopers that didn't reach cover in time before the blisteringly fast salvo of red tore into them, and the overwhelming feeling in Jack's chest was pure relief.

"Sonofa…"

The rest of the team slid out from the five-man vehicle, two of them taking cover behind its chassis while the third tossed some extra power cells to the beleaguered Ghosts.

"Name's Sneak. Heard you guys needed a hand, so your boss sent us. You gonna sit there gawpin', or are you gonna start shootin'?" he grinned challengingly. Pitch's look of almost disappointed surprise swiftly changed to malevolent excitement, and without a word he picked up his rifle, slid a fresh cell into the slot and vaulted the wall to add his violence to the battle.

"Harvester,"Jack said in an almost cheering voice, pressing two fingers to his right ear, "for that, I'm sorry for this afternoon!"

" _No you're not,"_  came the customary smooth, deep voice in his ear,  _"but if you manage to make it out in one piece, we'll call it even. Streak, how's the loading? We're running out of time, the Valkyries just landed!"_

" _We've got two thirds of them loaded onto the Fairy!"_

" _That'll have to do! Take off and get your ass to the depot, it's time we left!"_

In a split second, Jack entertained the idea that they might just make it out alive. With Team Red providing suppressive fire against the myriad clones, and Pitch gleefully taking down trooper after trooper like it was some sort of game, combined with the fact that the  _Fairy_  would soon be on her way to exfiltrate them, it looked like they might just win.

But then, the unthinkable happened.

As he tapped Pitch's shoulder, prompting the taller man to move from the other side of the jeep to the corner of the cafeteria building for a better vantage point, Jack heard a metallic  _thunk_  echo from somewhere to his left. Curious but feeling a flash of fear, his eyes roamed around the back of the jeep for the source…and he found it.

An arrow embedded in the floor.

And it was beeping.

Jack's reaction was reflexive and instantaneous. He grabbed the gunner by the back of his camouflage jacket and yanked him off, simultaneously roaring  _"Take cover!"_  to anyone that could possibly hear and almost as soon as they both hit the ground, his ability to manipulate ice instinctively rose to the challenge, as without his control a shield of ice rapidly spread from the ground over their bodies to protect them. It wasn't the first time his powers had saved his life, and it wouldn't be the last.

His reaction saved his life and that of the gunner, as before the shield was even halfway complete the jeep burst into fiery light, a deafening explosion heralding the end of its existence. Jack was only vaguely aware of the force of the blast ripping shards of ice from the half-built construct and catapulting them several yards over them, and the anguished yells of shock and anger from the rest of the team. Mercifully, the presence of his mask over his ears as well as the shield had mitigated some of the sonic force of the blast, but it still sounded like a drummer was going to town on a church bell.

" _Frost! Frost!"_  came the yells of Harvester in his earpiece, the voice helping anchor his mind to the here and now,  _"are you okay?!"_

"Yeah…" he found himself mumbling, though his mind didn't give his mouth clearance to do so, "I'm…peachy…"

In his disorientation, though, he felt the strangest of sensations inside him to add to the fear and adrenaline. It was a chill in the air and within, like someone had reached into his being and started to resonate with his gifts, making them react agitatedly like sand in an earthquake. As he staggered to his feet, oblivious to the blue bolts of energy zipping every which way, he blinked a few times and shook his head in an attempt to snap himself back to reality.

It was lucky that he did, because his eyes soon fell upon someone who he really hoped he wouldn't have to face. Rounding the burning wreck of the jeep, its charred husk cast upside down a yard or two away, a Valkyrie approached with all the confidence and single-minded vengeance in the world. He could easily tell she was a woman, by the shape of her hips and how they moved with each step. Part of him wondered if, under that intimidating mask, she was hot…but it was a thought that immediately scarpered upon the sight of her right arm reaching behind her back and drawing out a one-handed shimmering sword. He had never actually  _seen_  a Valkyrie before in all their black hooded glory; he had only ever heard the final transmissions of those unfortunate souls they had captured.

"Streak," he muttered into his mask, as he gestured to the scout to run, "please tell me the  _Fairy_ is on its way…"

" _Just taking off! Hold on!"_

Jack nodded and was just about to pick up his staff when Hiro's voice joined the cacophony of noise around him.

" _Dude, why don't you just shoot her?"_

He smirked with understanding, and with a speed rivalling that of ancient duelling cowboys he pulled his pistol from the holster, flicked the setting to 'stun', levelled it at the Valkyrie's torso and fired shot after shot after shot, nearly emptying the clip. He knew that only four shots were needed to cause irrevocable damage, but in his mind it was either him or her.

There was only one problem, though…none of them had any effect. The force of each bolt impacted her body and forced her to stagger back a few steps, but each hit of the blue torpedoes merely dissipated along her armour and spread around to her back, the blue glow dwindling with each second. Jack felt his stomach lurch with the newfound knowledge that the Ghosts' mortal enemies were impervious to stun-bolts…and probably to the red kill-bolts too.

She laughed. It was a mechanically distorted, challenging laugh and made that chill in his body all the sharper.

" _Okay…"_  Jack heard Kristoff mutter through his earpiece,  _"…that's new. Can you hold her off?"_

Jack tossed the useless pistol aside with an irritated grunt, his goggled gaze fixed on the Valkyrie as she recovered from the eight shots that impacted her chest, spun her sword with a taunting flourish and resumed her strides towards him. With a galvanising breath, he darted down to pick up his staff, whirled it around his body in a display of defensive aggression then finished in his ready position, the left side of his body temptingly vulnerable while the right side hid the staff along his arm. Hiccup once called it the  _'come at me bro'_  pose, especially when he did what he always did, which was use his left hand to challengingly beckon the Valkyrie towards him.

It worked. With a yell, she rushed at him, swinging her sword with both hands in a diagonal arc from her right shoulder aiming for his leg. Instantly, he pivoted to the right and swung the staff to parry the strike, then revolved again with a counter-attack, using the momentum of his spin to fuel a strike into the side of her hooded head, causing her to stagger to the right and hiss in pain. Jack smirked with a little schadenfreude at his flawless counter, reflecting on how he liked to fight in close combat. Tease. Toy with. Offer vulnerability and then snatch it away.

They circled each other, oblivious to the firefight going on around them, only aware of each other's presence and the tunnel vision that came with it. He quickly flicked his eyes down to her breastplate and just about caught a few letters of a rank and a call sign –  _Val- and Sno-._

She struck again, this time with greater speed and force. Jack barely blocked the first two horizontal swings at his head, and leapt back to avoid the third aimed at his stomach. He knew that she had the edge with her sharpened blade, that while he could cause a few bruises and fractures and most likely irritate the hell out of her, a single strike with raw power from the Valkyrie could cause him severe injury. So, dropping his hands to the lower half of his staff, he resolved to keep her at range.

And it worked, for a time. His parries and counter-attacks were lightning fast, if she swung left, he would parry it away and tag her in the leg, returning the end of the staff to its defensive position with almost instantaneous speed. She lunged with the blade tip pointed at his heart, a strike that he sidestepped, batted the sword down and followed up with a swing at her face, which she agilely ducked, and a swing at the back of her legs, which she jumped over. She spun on the spot and aimed a swing in a huge arc around her body, aiming for any place she could hit which Jack dodged with a rather impressive butterfly kick – something wholly unnecessary, but he always liked to show off.

She responded in kind, and Jack wondered who the hell trained her as he evaded every kick, because she was fluid, relentlessly aggressive, and  _good_. Pivoting on the balls of her left foot and pushing the sword into the ground for extra stability, she aimed a rage-fuelled spinning hook kick to his head, his well-timed duck forcing her to carry the momentum into a reverse sweep kick to try and knock the agile Ghost on his ass – and as he jumped to avoid  _that_  attack, she swiftly rose to her feet, pulled the sword from the ground and fuelled all her strength into a horizontal left swing at his abdomen, something that he narrowly avoided with a nearly mistimed backwards lurch. To his pleasure, he could hear her snarls of frustration with each failed strike.

He was barely aware of Pitch rushing past him toward a bright light and a deafening buzzing sound, the scuffle with the woman rendering him oblivious to all else.

"Hey," he began his usual trash talk as he backed away a few steps, "are you  _really_  a Valkyrie? I thought you ladies were better than this."

If he was intending to aggravate her, it worked. With a yell, she aimed swing after swing after swing at him, and Jack barely dodged, blocked or parried every one. With every strike she stepped forward, and Jack stepped back, and he knew that eventually, he would tire and she would not. So, he had to toy with her, tease her, make  _her_  run out of energy first.

That, and piss her off.

"So tell me," he teased, breathless with fatigue, ducking yet another swing then quickly parrying the following overhead strike, "you seem to have a real hard-on for us. Why is that?"

"You Ghosts killed my parents!" the distorted feminine voice shouted back, the accompanying swing impacting just that little bit harder. Her statement made sense in a way, it explained why she was so relentless, so precise, and why each strike felt like Anna's whenever she was pissed off with Kristoff, Kozmotis or  _both_. It explained why every time he blocked her increasingly rapid attacks, the rising fear for his life resonated with his powers, causing little bolts of frost-like lightning to spark from each contact.

"Wait, what?" he gaped, and in that second of mild confusion he let his guard down. She took full advantage, manoeuvred to his left and swung the sword in a horizontal arc. Jack didn't dodge it quickly enough, and felt the tip of the blade cut right through the back of his vest and into his skin.

He always had a problem watching his six.

"Argh!" he hissed, his eyes clamping shut as a lightning strike of white hot pain shot through his body, his back arching reflexively, and was narrowly able to twist around and dodge the thrust aimed at his belly, but his slower reaction speed left him open to a boot into his chest. He fell backwards with the impact, his staff rolling out of reach. He was down, defenceless, something that the Valkyrie took full advantage of. He sensed her desire to be up close and personal as she sat astride him, drew the sword above her head, his blood still dripping from the tip…but then she hesitated, releasing one hand from the blade and moving it towards the underside of his mask.

He wasn't afraid to admit he was panicking at that moment – the fresh wound in his back screamed at him, the conduit for his offensive abilities too far out of reach, his head still rattling from how hard it hit the concrete ground…and the name of the swordswoman that so easily turned the tables on him –  _Valkyrie Leader Snow Queen_.

"Let's see what you look like…" he heard her mutter, and closing his eyes, he braced himself for the end.

* * *

Three minutes ago, Pitch was having the time of his life. Almost as soon as they appeared, he was beset by two of the elite Valkyries in the fairly narrow space between the barracks and the cafeteria, both attacking from either side of him. One seemed to be hesitant and reluctant in her baton-wielded attacks, as though every figurative punch was pulled. The other Valkyrie fought brutally, almost as savagely as he did, yet without his customarily surgical precision. The strikes of her one-handed axe were strong and fast, but easily readable to a seasoned hand-to-hand combatant like Pitch who, unlike Jack, never held back.

He always questioned why his snow-haired ally rarely used his powers against anything that wasn't a clone, to which he received the reply of  _'I've seen what happens when a family is left behind'._

However, as far as Pitch was concerned…clone or not, if you're standing between him and his goal you're fair game, especially the two Valkyries whose names he managed to glimpse in the brief pauses between their attacks –  _Viking_  and  _Goldilocks._

It seemed to be a game of who would strike first. Viking would surge forward then freeze, Pitch's momentary reaction to her attack allowing Goldilocks an opening with her twin batons – which as the Ghost found out to his pained anger and the numerous sore spots on his ribs, were charged with electricity – enough to hurt but not cause lasting damage…or kill. When Goldilocks attempted a swing at him he would dodge it, but it left him open to Viking – and the numerous cuts on his body from narrowly evading her axe were testament to both her accuracy and his agility.

Two against one were not good odds, however well-trained Pitch was, and it was no more evident in the sore bruises, electrically-twitching muscles and bleeding cuts across his chest and arms. He needed to put a stop to this. He was done fighting defensively. He was  _pissed off_ , and an angry Pitch was a dangerous, nearly sadistic Pitch.

This time, he offered weakness, he counter-feinted the feint. Goldilocks surged forward with both batons aimed at an exposed point on the right of his torso, and Viking followed it up with a downward swing to where she expected Pitch to move – to the left – but he didn't. Instead, he remained where he was…

…because he took pleasure from combat, especially the euphoric pain that was inherent to it.

The batons' tips connected with his chest and sent jolt after jolt of painful electricity through his bones, turning his heartbeat into a viciously fast thudding. With a pained but malevolent smirk he grabbed Goldilocks' arms so she was effectively pinned and aimed a kick into Viking's left side that sent her staggering into the concrete barracks. Taking advantage of the brief pause in combat he roughly twisted Goldilocks' hands away from his chest, the yelp of pain heralding the involuntary twitch that forced her to drop her weapons. He dropped to a crouch and swept a leg at the back of her knees, and she crumpled to the ground, the quick reversal of fortune justifying the screaming pain in his chest as he jerked to his feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Viking yelled and swung her axe downwards with the intention of splitting his skull, a move that Pitch spectacularly countered by moving one step back, fluidly grabbing her arm with one hand and wrenching it behind her, keeping her bent double with the other, ignoring the snarling attempts of Viking to twist away from the position he held her in.

Of course, Pitch liked a good bit of fear in combat, and throughout their scuffle he could sense that Goldilocks was the weaker link, the one that had to fight but didn't want to. Mentally snaking a sand-tendril from his spine around her neck, it effortlessly lifted her from the ground, the pressure of the black sandy tendril merely serving to suspend rather than strangle. Her frantic struggles against it faltered as she seemed to understand what he was about to do, and tried to move her head away, to save herself from the sight of what was coming.

"Oh no, dear," he spoke with a breathless, wincing voice and a menacing smile, "don't look away just yet…"

…and with an almighty wrench he dislocated Viking's shoulder. He grinned as he heard the scream of anguished pain erupt from her mask, and contemptuously pushed her to the ground, taking a little too much perverse pleasure in the sounds of her agony.

" _Did you just do what I think you did? Pitch, that was_ too _far!"_ yelled Harvester over the line, prompting a disdainful roll of the eyes.

"No such thing." he muttered, and just as he turned to visit destruction upon the reinforcing clones, an arrow zipped past his head, missed his mask by mere millimetres and embedded itself in the barracks wall to his right. With incredulous eyes he glanced at the projectile, and as the sand tendril drew the helpless Valkyrie towards him, he turned his masked head towards her.

"Who the fuck uses a bow and arrow in this day and age?" he asked with incredulity as though in conversation with a friend, drinking in the sounds of struggling from behind her mask. It was when one of the scouts yelled  _"watch out for the warehouse roof!"_ that he spotted her, the third Valkyrie and the owner of that specific arrow, pulling another from a quiver on her back.

He mimicked her motion, his arm movements pretending to draw his own missile back from an imaginary bow – except an arrow of pure black sand materialised where a  _real_  projectile would be – and then pretended to let fly. The dark shaft shot off toward the ranged Valkyrie, and he noted with a wide smirk that she wasn't expecting him to return fire and therefore didn't dodge quickly enough. The 'arrow' impacted her shoulder and exploded into a small puff of black dust, the force causing her hands to jerk and drop her bow as she landed with her back on the roof.

"Right back at you with interest, you fascist bitch." he snarled, and contemptuously tossed Goldilocks a few yards away behind him like a rag doll, her body impacting the ground and rolling helplessly away.

"You know, these Valkyries aren't all they're cracked up to be." he muttered into the com-line, and was surprised to hear a response from Hiccup, albeit rushed and a little frantic.

" _They're testing us, Pitch – that was close, good going there Toothless – I'm guessing if there's a next time we meet them, they'll know what to watch out for!"_

"I sincerely hope there is," Pitch added, "because that was too-"

" _Guys, I'm here! Frost is fighting one of those totalitarian bitches, he could use a hand!"_ Anna yelled over the com-line. Pitch grinned with anticipation as his legs kicked into action, ignoring the repeated protests of his cuts and bruises, toward the bright lights and the buzzing sound of the  _Fairy_ hovering in the wide space between the north gate and the frenetic battle, its nose pointed straight at Jack and the other Valkyrie, both completely ignorant of the metallic behemoth's existence.

He rushed past them, narrowly avoiding stray bolts of blue as he sprinted toward the rear exit ramp, passing Flynn who just that second disembarked wielding - to Pitch's fleeting confusion - a _frying pan_  to join the fray. He shot his right hand out to grab one of the handles that help occupants board the ship, using his momentum to gracefully swing into the cargo hold and roughly collide with one of the crates of fuel cells, an  _'oof'_  that escaped his mouth mingling with the metallic clinking of the shaken cylinders.

The orange glow that emanated from the first crate reinforced an already present idea, and with an excited chuckle he scrambled past the closest three crates and plucked one from the top of the first. With the cylinder nestled under his right arm, he navigated his way to the co-pilot's seat, enduring incredulous glances from the masked Anna as he sat down and bent to the right.

"What the hell are you doing? Jack needs help!" she hissed, watching as Eugene appeared like an intervening military angel and disarmed the hooded Valkyrie.

"He's going to get it." Pitch answered calmly, sliding the cylinder into a circular receptacle mounted on the dash just to the right of the co-pilot's control column, a few inches from the floor. The fuel cell easily slid in, followed by three mechanical clicks as the tabs moved into place to keep it secure. The once red lights around the receptacle flickered to green, indicating that power was being drawn from the newly added cell, and the three words that Pitch desperately wanted to hear graced his ears like the seductive voice of an artificially intelligent siren.

" _Pulse cannons online."_

"Outstanding." he crooned with his hands wrapped firmly around the control column, and once Eugene pulled Jack away from the front of the ship, he pulled the red trigger.

* * *

It happened too fast for Elsa to even register.

Sat astride the Ghost, the one known as Frost who she had intended to kill all along, she was seconds from avenging her parents. The curiosity that in all that time he had not used his powers against her had been compartmentalised at that point in favour of the here and now, where she prepared to drive the blade deep into his chest. He was defenceless, he was pinned.

He was hers.

She was so focused, so singularly bent on ending the white-haired man, so convinced that he was at her mercy that she allowed herself the opportunity to see what he looked like under that mask, so rather than pierce his heart with the blade, she held it with one hand where it was, while her other laced itself under his mask.

That moment cost the advantage, as in her distraction both now and over the past ten minutes, she failed to notice the arrival of the Ghosts' drop-ship, and the intervention of a brown-haired man dressed in olive-green camouflage.

The first thing she felt was the sharp pain of something metal impacting her sword-hand with a loud  _clang_ , knocking her blade well out of her reach. Hissing with pain, she let herself fall backwards to avoid another horizontal strike from a  _frying pan_  of all things, and drew her feet up from under her to aim both of her boots in a double-kick at the man's chest, indignant anger fuelling the blow. He staggered backwards, uttering a satisfyingly pained  _"unf"_  with the impact as she rolled to her right towards her discarded sword, taking full advantage of the momentary distance between them. As she scrambled to her feet while simultaneously picking up her weapon from the ground, she snarled with anger as she noticed the brown-haired man quickly yank Frost to his feet with one hand while protecting his chest with the other, both faces pointed directly at her as they backed away towards their drop-ship.

"Good timing, Flynn. Thanks." came Frost's deep, oddly attractive voice as he retrieved his staff, to which 'Flynn' merely responded with a friendly pat on his shoulder.

As quickly as she could possibly react, her right hand drew back her coat and reached for her holstered pistol, intending to stun them both with two quick shots and then finish them off with her blade…but a sound from the drop-ship sent a lightning strike of fear throughout her spine, draining the blood from her face just as she drew her pistol, the sound enough to hasten Flynn and Frost's retreat.

The rotary cannons on the Ghosts' ship were revving up, and they were pointed squarely at her.

Those things were designed to tear holes into enemy  _aircraft_.

Adrenaline kicked in like the stampede of wild buffalo, and keeping her body low she sprinted across the depot as hard as she possibly could towards the first barracks, closely chased by the thousands of red bolts following her, each one charring the ground with a black mark. She wasn't sure how close they were to her feet; all she cared about was reaching cover before her body was torn apart by the  _anti-air_ pulse cannon fire…however, she did allow herself to blindly aim her pistol in the general direction of the drop-ship's starboard side, and felt a momentary flash of pleasure when she heard one of the two men yelp in surprise.

And reach cover she did, one bolt narrowly missing the back of her hood as she threw herself to the hard ground behind the concrete wall of the building, the red projectiles thudding into its corner like deadly, horizontal rain. She covered her head with her hands, and only when the constant thudding moved away did she unfurl her fingers and look up to find the red hail of death shoot across the depot, ripping into any clones too slow to find cover. One of them was literally torn apart by dozens of the large bolts, while others found themselves without a limb or two.

Chancing a quick glance around the corner, she allowed herself to smirk as she watched – with his arms hooked under the unconscious man's armpits – Frost dragging Flynn to the loading ramp of their ship.

Metallic whirring reached her ears, ceasing the deafeningly loud rain of death, and she ran from cover into the main depot just as the ship rose higher into the air and turned to leave. Adrenaline fuelling her legs, she sprinted after it as it finished its half-circle turn, but cursed as it slowly took off into the sky.

She cursed even more when she spotted Frost sticking his middle finger at her just before the exit ramp closed and sealed the ship, protectively hiding her prey from her.

"No!" she hissed, firing a few pointless stun-bolts at the back of the ship, each one harmlessly dissipating against its fuselage.

She was so close. So very near to achieving the vengeance for which she had trained for three years, and the Ghosts slipped away as they always did. She still had time, however. There was a chance that they could return to their own personal craft and follow the escaping Ghosts.

"Snow Queen to all Valkyries, report in." she hissed, watching her enemy disappear into the night sky.

" _Bear here, still breathing. Jesus, that wasnae pleasant."_

" _Viking here, just about…my shoulder…that bastard dislocated it."_  Astrid hissed over the com-line, sounding like she was in a hell of a lot of pain.

" _Goldilocks here. I'm coming, V. What happens now? Most of our clones are dead or…not in any shape to fight, put it that way."_

"We return to the  _Valhalla_ and follow them." Elsa said commandingly, and as she tore her eyes from the sky and turned around to join her squad-mates, a thud of energy hit her shoulder, jerking it back with the impact. With an angry hiss, she looked up to find something she did not expect, but ultimately might prove useful.

Two men, dressed in the same olive green camouflage as the two other scouts she knocked out on her way to engage Frost, taking cover behind a wall of pure ice. She smiled to herself as she strode towards them, the blue bolts harmlessly dissolving against her energy-dissipating body armour, each failure garnering an increasingly fearful look in the unfortunate men's eyes.

She knew that once she incapacitated these scouts then returned to her ship, the Ghosts would be too far away to follow, so maybe these two gentlemen knew where they were going.

Maybe they didn't.

The Inquisitors would find out either way.

* * *

_COUNTDOWN TO PURGE DAY (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS): **03:05:05:07:59**_

* * *


	5. Fractures

_To say Anna was nervous as hell would be an understatement considering, like everything that happened beforehand, it was all a new experience. Nerves didn't stop the creeping exhaustion though, nor the several yawns that escaped her mouth while they circled the Star to find a good place to land._

_Ten minutes after the warm greeting over the radio - Kristoff explained that they like every return to sound like a mother welcoming her children home – Jack deftly landed the drop-ship on what looked like the very edge of the carrier's flight deck, which turned out to be an elevator that lowered them halfway down the starboard side to face some heavy duty steel hangar doors._

_The team waited for a moment, noticing that the huge barriers separating them from the inside of the ship hadn't opened yet, and speaking with what seemed to be Jack's customary dry wit…_

" _Hey, is someone gonna open up, or do I have to get out and knock?"_

_Almost instantly, there was an audible clunk and whirr, and then the sound of metal grinding against metal as the hangar doors finally opened. Anna peered with curious eyes through the windshield into the Star's interior, unable to see much besides some sealed crates, farming equipment, mechanical tools and empty fuel-cell cylinders._

_Jack cut the power to the ionic thrust engines, wrapped his fingers around a lever to his right and pushed it halfway, and with a happy buzz the Yeti crept forth on its hover pads, slowly but surely inching its way from the cold, sunrise-lit outside world into the belly of the Star._

" _This is…I didn't think they made these any more…" she muttered to no-one in particular, craning her head forward so her eyes could get a good view of the hangar ceiling – not much to see other than pipes, pipes, and more pipes._

" _They don't," Kristoff explained, "the Star is old. She saw service in the Third War, but when Unity consolidated its power and started to develop the technology we use now, they saw no need for an this old lady, so they started to decommission her. They only got as far as the nuclear reactor."_

" _Why? What happened?" she asked, her gaze switching from the oncoming hangar bay to Kristoff's grinning face._

" _We stole it. Well, not us…but the Ghosts that came before us."_

_Anna's jaw dropped, dumbfounded. Sure, people had stolen hover-cars, trucks, and obviously the abnormals helped themselves to a few Draugr-class drop-ships…but an archaic aircraft carrier? She added it to the list of questions._

" _Ghosts that came before…" she repeated blankly, definitely not getting it._

" _Oh yeah, we're not the first incarnation. What are we, the second? Third?" he frowned at Jack for clarification, who mouthed his answer as he concentrated on turning the Yeti to the left once inside the bay, "third. She's been supporting us for a long time, and we're proud of the old lady. There's still some life in her yet."_

_Yet more questions flooded her mind. How long had the Ghosts been operating? How long had the Star been at sea, home to however many abnormals that she carried? Why hadn't Unity blown it out of the water yet? All of these questions pinged around her mind like an old-fashioned pinball machine, but the first one that reached her mouth was something simple yet effective._

" _What…what happens now?"_

_Jack parked the Yeti on a designated spot, in the middle of the hangar between two of the doors and, once he unclipped himself from the safety harness and rose from the pilot's seat, he took his gloves and utility vest off to reveal a tight fitting black T-shirt underneath, lithe muscles and probably a few scars under the fabric. Hooking them above the port-side personnel bench just under his mask and goggles, he punched a red button on the wall to the right, and watched as with a heavy clunking and groaning, the exit ramp of the Yeti opened up to allow them out._

" _Me?" he said, shrugging, "Breakfast, shower, bed, in that order. With you being a newbie, you get the welcome package."_

"… _and what's that?" Anna frowned warily, concerned that this Frost might have a prank or two up his sleeve._

" _Jack means me."_

_Anna's head turned towards the fully opened exit ramp, at the bottom of which stood a woman with raven-black hair in a bob, skin nearly as pale as Jack's, rose-red lips that curled into a wide, welcoming beam. Wearing a soft yellow skirt and a blue blouse, she looked decidedly fashionable against the sheer black of the Ghost uniforms._

" _My name is Neve, but everyone here knows me as Snow White. I'm the leader of our little family on the Star. What do I call you?"_

" _Anna. Anna Snowfield."_

" _It's a pleasure to meet you, Anna. I would imagine you have lots of questions for us, and we will do our best to answer them in due time. However, I would imagine you are weary after your ordeal and the long flight. Kristoff, would you kindly escort Anna to 'E' Deck? I believe rest is in order for our new arrival."_

_Kristoff nodded and offered his hand as a gesture for Anna to exit the ship first, and though she was about to protest and unleash a barrage of queries upon anyone who would listen, the huge yawn that erupted from her mouth along with the almost iron-like heaviness to her eyelids took precedence._

_Yes, sleep would be good._

* * *

_Location: Atlantic Ocean, 400 miles south of Greenland  
Date: August 16_ _th_ _, 2073_  
Time: 02:30

 

" _Fairy, this is the Star. Food's warm and beds made. Welcome home."_

In any other situation, the welcome they received would have set a cosy fire of warmth and comfort in the hearts of the returning Ghosts, especially at the prospect of sustenance and sleep. The idea of coming home to light conversation, relaxation and benevolent camaraderie. The dream of kicking your shoes off, pouring yourself a glass of wine and just resting after a hard day's work.

Yet, even the accommodating welcome they received over the radio was subdued and a little morose, but with a hint of relief. Sure, there was always a chance that the Ghosts would leave for a mission and never come back, but over the past few weeks the likelihood had increased. Especially since the official announcement of the anti-abnormal strike team named after those from Norse legend who decided whether warriors would live or die.

Jack always felt the naming was incredibly apt.

On the journey back to the  _Star_ , silence was the order of the night within the confines of their ship. Of course, Eugene had the excuse of being unconscious due the direct hit of a stun-bolt on his central nervous system, and Anna was busy piloting the  _Fairy_ , but Jack and Kozmotis just didn't feel like talking. Both were exhausted, both were lost in solemn thought, and both were in pain.

Ordinarily, if Jack received any cuts or scrapes in combat he would create a thin film of ice over the area to stop any bleeding, and though the slash that started from one shoulder blade to the other screamed at him coupled with the angry bruise on his chest – thank you, Snow Queen – he wasn't registering it. There were far more important things on his mind, and when both he and Pitch glanced at the inert form of Eugene on the  _Fairy's_ floor, then locked eyes with each other, he could tell his squad-mate was thinking the same thing. A lot of silent understanding passed between the orbs of cobalt and gold, expressions of hard resignation and grim empathy.

Pitch was the kind of guy who was a pragmatist when it came to combat, warfare or survival. He knew that in battle, the line between acceptable and savage was often blurred and that sometimes you need to break an arm – or dislocate a shoulder – in order to survive. He knew and accepted that war is violent, bloodthirsty and brutal, and though he enjoyed it sometimes a little too much, it was a necessary product of what they did. It could be argued that the nearly grey-skinned, black haired Ghost was void of empathy and heart, but it wasn't true. Anyone who got to know Kozmotis Pitchinier – or rather, those he allowed to – knew that there was more to him than met the eye.

As Jack glanced for a few seconds into those eyes of gold, and figuratively received the telepathic thoughts from his ally, he could tell that the same melancholy knowledge sat heavily in  _his_  mind too – despite the successful theft of two thirds of the fuel cells, they had no idea what happened to Scout Team Red after they fled. They had no idea if the scouts managed to slip away or were languishing in captivity.

The question in his mind was: why did their victory and escape feel like it came at too high a cost?

As the exit ramp slowly opened to reveal the hangar deck of the  _Star_ , the returning warriors could easily tell that the mood within their drop-ship fit well with the air in their home. People were subdued, quiet. Frowns rather than smiles. Snippets of few words rather than full-blown conversation. It could be forgiven as they had returned in the ridiculously early hours of the morning, but the silence of sleepiness is easily distinguishable from the silence of sombre tension. Jack even entertained the ephemeral hope that Snow White would greet them with her ever smiling, fair face – something that he always looked forward to, but as it had been over the past three years, even her buoyant irrepressible good cheer had been tempered with realistic melancholy. Still he would take that over the empty space that awaited them as the exit ramp finished its descent.

"Welcome home…" Jack muttered resignedly to himself. Pitch was the first to exit, the cuts on his upper body undoubtedly yelling curses at him as he carried Eugene's unconscious form in his arms, followed by Jack and then Anna, who promptly froze and swore when she caught sight of the long slash across his upper back.

"Yikes!" she hissed with a wince evident in her voice. Jack stopped and turned to fix her with a puzzled expression, then remembered the mark left by the Valkyrie, a reminder made all the more stark by a surge in pain. Evidently it did not want to be ignored any longer.

"Huh? Oh…that." he automatically shrugged, then hissed as the wound wordlessly reprimanded him for the thoughtless gesture.

"Jack, I need to see to that. We're going to the infirmary with Kozmotis and Eugene."

"Kristoff will want us for debriefing, and what about Hiccup?" he half-heartedly protested, but as far as he was concerned the post-mission discussion could go fuck itself.

"Alright, then I'll patch you up in the briefing room. Either way, it's happening." she said with finality, the ever-typical Anna Snowfield sternness in her voice. She cared greatly for Jack and vice versa, and if he was honest he trusted her more than any of the medical staff, so he acquiesced. Upon informing the dragon rider where they were headed via the radio earpiece, Anna led Jack to the hangar bay exit…and for once, he didn't argue.

He parted company with the other three as soon as they hit the main corridor. Anna announced that she was going to accompany Kozmotis to the infirmary and pick up one of the medical kits, and that she would meet him in the briefing room. Jack wearily nodded in acknowledgement and went the opposite way, and it wasn't long after descending the steps into the deck below that he heard a familiar clumping behind him, one foot slightly heavier than the other. He didn't need to turn round on his journey to know who it was.

"Hey bud…yikes, what happened to  _you?_ " Hiccup greeted him, wincing as he looked at the back of the T-shirt.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Jack responded wearily.

"Sure you are," Hiccup scoffed, his eyes deciding they had enough of the back of his comrade's moderately bloodstained T-shirt, "who wanted to open you up?"

"Snow Queen, and yes, that was her handiwork." Jack answered as he stopped, and pushed open the briefing room door to find Kristoff deep in secretive conversation with Snow White, and both glanced toward them upon hearing the two Ghosts' arrival. The comparatively diminutive leader hastily bade Kristoff goodbye and made her way past them toward the exit, offering a warm greeting as she did so. Hiccup nodded respectfully while Jack just grunted his response, moving down the steps towards one of the seats at the front where, before parking his ass, he removed his T-shirt in preparation for Anna's arrival. Needless to say he rolled his eyes upon hearing the third wince of the night come from Kristoff, and wearily flopped down on the seat, taking care to not let his bare back touch the cold metal.

The room was silent for ten or so minutes following that point, Kristoff evidently waiting for Kozmotis and Anna before going ahead with the debriefing. Jack spent his time making snowflakes dance across his fingertips, choosing to briefly lose himself in their blue, shimmering splendour as they floated from hand to hand. Sat two rows behind him and to the right, Hiccup stuck his feet up on the chair in front and attempted to snatch ten minutes of sleep, and Kristoff leaned his butt against the steel planning table, his arms folded and his eyes fixed upon an invisible spot on the floor, lost in thought.

Watching as one of his creations lazily cut a gentle swathe across the room; Jack wondered what the point of this debriefing was. As far as he was concerned, the mission was a Pyrrhic victory at best, and a failure at worst. Sure, they had returned with a decent supply of fuel cells, but there was no food, four potential captures and one close call at the tip of a blade. He felt that this debriefing session was ultimately redundant.

A clanking from the back of the room turned everyone's heads towards the door. Anna was first to enter, sporting a red medical kit – a clean mechanic's toolbox filled with medical supplies, that is – followed by a topless Kozmotis who was covered in angry bruises and several minor lacerations across his torso and arms. Jack glanced from them to Kristoff, and noted an expression that looked like guilt upon the Ghost leader's face.

"Eugene started stirring when I left him in the infirmary," Kozmotis spoke in an almost offhand manner as he sat two seats to the right of where Anna would be, "so whether you want to wait for him or not, I don't care. All I want is to get this shit over with and go to bed."

Various murmurs of assent floated around the room at his somewhat disrespectful words, including a  _"you got that right"_ from Anna as she nestled herself behind Jack and opened the medical kit. Jack mentally prepared himself for what was to come, and decided it couldn't hurt to pluck the eight-inch rod from his bracer and grip it in readiness.

"No, we'll start. So, what happened out there?" Kristoff declined, shaking his head. Jack winced as he heard the rubber-like clacking of Anna slipping latex gloves onto her hands, especially as he knew for a fact they ran out of anaesthetic a month ago.

"They came, they saw, they conquered. Not much else to say." Kozmotis said disinterestedly, shrugging as he reached his slender fingers over to the open medical kit and retrieved several packs of butterfly stitches.

"A little more detail would be nice, soldier." Kristoff reprimanded, earning a mildly petulant  _"sorry, sir…"_ in return.

"Yeah well," Jack piped up, hissing several profanities as he felt Anna clean his wound with something he hoped was drinkable alcohol, sending the buzzing pain into a searing one, "Kozmotis is right. Everything was going great until they came, then it all went sideways on us."

"How did they know?" Anna asked the room, muttering a quiet apology to Jack as she began to pierce the lower part of the slash with the needle, evidently noticing that the air around them had become several degrees colder in response. At that point, Jack gave up speaking in favour of enduring the searing pain along with the sharp pricking alongside it.

"No idea. Maybe they just got lucky, or they're that good. Anyone with an ounce of common tactical sense would attack the enemy at its weakest point, so maybe that's how they knew we'd be there. The point is that they were. Did anyone catch their names, or anything we can use to identify them?" asked Kristoff, pushing himself from the table but keeping his arms folded. Kozmotis was the first to answer, his gaze solely focused on the fourth set of butterfly stitches as he applied them to a thin cut on his right bicep.

"The two I fought were called Viking and Goldilocks."

"Snow Queen was the one that nearly killed Jack." Hiccup added, receiving a grateful thumb up from his comrade that wore one hell of a screwed up face.

"And the fourth?" Kristoff asked.

"Dorkeye, probably." Kozmotis muttered offhandedly as he focused on taping a rather short but deep cut on his left pectoral. Jack couldn't help but snigger, and received a reprimanding whack on the back of his head for moving too much. That part of his head was becoming quite sore.

"Whoever they are… _ah, shit_ …they're good. Snow Queen's really good with a sword in close combat, and judging by the bruises and cuts on Kozzykins…" Jack muttered, hissing with each stitch, "…the other three are no slouches either. Only ones of us that haven't been tagged are Anna and Hiccup."

Jack, with his back to his ally, didn't see Kozmotis look up from his ministrations with a curious frown at the back of Jack's head, look off to the left in contemplative thought, before returning to his work.

"I dunno…it seems  _personal_  for Snow Queen, going on how hard she fought. She's out for my blood." Jack finished.

"Oh?" Kozmotis sniggered behind him, "why is that, beyond the usual?"

" _Ha-ha,_ " Jack sneered, "she says we killed her parents."

"Oh, like we've not heard  _that_  story before. Ghosts responsible for restaurant bombing! Ghosts to blame for Reapers! There's something strange in the neighbourhood…it's the Ghosts, and they're stealing your knives and forks!" Anna scoffed, utilising more sarcasm than that of Kozmotis and Jack combined.

"Change of subject. Did we get enough fuel cylinders? I really, really hope we did. I don't want to go through that again." Hiccup asked, wiping a hand across his face in an effort to stay awake.

"I don't know," Kristoff shrugged, a grim gesture of body language, "Snow White and I will have a look tomorrow. In any case, we should have enough to power the Phalanx turrets on the main deck. If Unity finds us, we can defend ourselves."

"Do you really think this boat can stand up to them?" Kozmotis sneered.

"No," Kristoff bluntly replied, "it won't. Our only advantage is where this ship sails. It'll give us time to initiate  _Code Exodus_ , though."

Jack underwent his third shudder of the day, and fourth whack on his head.  _Code Exodus_  was a long-standing protocol that, in the event of an attack on the  _Star_ , families would be hustled aboard the six  _Hela-class_  drop-ships and taken to a safe place. If the attacker was defeated, then they would return…if not, those that chose to stay and fight would go down with the ship.

Speaking of 'going down'…

"Has Scout Team Red checked in yet?" Anna asked interestedly, halfway through the stitching.

"I don't think they will…" Kristoff exhaled deeply, a certainty in his voice not normally associated with statements of doubt. This was evidently one part of the debriefing he was hoping to avoid – so he figured he might as well get it over with.

"…because I asked them to stay behind and slow the Valkyries down."

"What?" Anna whispered, mortified, her hands stilled by the revelation. Jack's hands promptly buried his face – he knew the cost of the survival, but thought it was paid by the scouts' own decision. Kristoff took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, his arms unlacing themselves from his chest and dropping by his sides, and prepared his next words carefully.

"Since the Valkyries started acting against us, we've lost team after team after team. Shrek, Belle, Fiona…we've lost them all. I don't know what's happened to them, whether they're dead, alive, or somewhere in between. You guys…are the best of the best, and they nearly took you down just  _testing_  you. Imagine what they would do if they weren't."

"If you fall, that's it. We're done. No more fuel cells, no more intel gathering missions, no more prisoner rescues, nothing. I made a judgement call, and I ordered them to stay behind and distract the Valkyries while you made your escape. If I didn't, they would have caught up to you and blown you out of the sky."

"You don't know that…" Hiccup protested quietly.

"Hic, a couple of inches and Jack's spine would have been severed. Pitch looks like he fought a lawnmower. I kinda think I-"

"THEY WERE MY TEAM!"

It was in that moment that they discovered Eugene had been listening outside of the briefing room, as he suddenly tore down the stairs, staggering a little with the grogginess of his prior unconsciousness still in his system, and applied a solid left hook to Kristoff's jaw. Of course, the burly Ghost's gifts meant that he had a high durability and thus the punch did little damage, but the emotion and the weight behind it covered that and  _then_  some. Eugene stared at him with a glare of betrayal, his eyes radiating sadness and anger.

"Eugene, I-" he began, but the shorter Scout interrupted him viciously and without care.

"They were  _my_ team! You ordered them to help and you  _left them behind!_  My team! My men! Told to stay like fucking sacrificial lambs so you could keep your precious Ghosts!" he roared, undaunted by the difference in size. Kristoff met his rage-filled gaze second for second, completely sympathetic to the Scout's pain.

No-one said a word. No-one would dare. Even Anna chose to tear her gaze away from the unfolding conflict and busy herself with her medical ministrations, and Jack could easily tell she just wanted to get it done and get out of there by the increasing frequency of the piercing pain.

"I know, Eugene. I'm sorry."

"Take your sorry, stick it to your lips and kiss my ass. I hope it was worth it, Kristoff. I really do. They were good men, good honest men that gave up their freedom so you could all keep yours." Eugene spat bitterly, his seething eyes roving between each Ghost before he turned on his heels and marched up the stairs. Kristoff's eyes followed him for some time, and even the feeling of a bandage being wrapped around his torso didn't dissuade the notion in Jack's mind that he would rather be  _anywhere_ else but here.

"For what it's worth, Kristoff," Kozmotis murmured, rising to his feet and assessing the quality of his self-reliant medical work, "it was a tough call to make…so, my respect to you."

"Coming from you that means…almost nothing." Kristoff grimly answered.

To everyone's relief, Kristoff ended the briefing not long after that, sensing that there was nothing further to discuss in the unholy hours of the morning with four exhausted Ghosts, two of them injured. Thanking Anna for her ministrations, gratitude that earned him a very cautious hug, Jack was the first to leave the room, making his way one deck below to his quarters. Along the way, his mind was on fire with memories of the raid, solemn knowledge of the Scouts' fate and the depressing idea that, in the end, Kristoff made the right call – tactically, at least.

Morally...that was another question.

Sometimes the line was blurred.

As he pushed open the steel door to his personal room and collapsed on the bed, he unceremoniously kicked off his boots and flopped back onto the moderately tough, lumpy mattress, cursing loudly and rolling onto his side when the stitched wound connected with the bed and subsequently issued painful profanities at him.

The three seconds it took for him to fall asleep were used to give thanks to Scout Team Red, otherwise, he'd be sleeping on a steel bench surrounded by guards, wondering if he would ever see daylight again.

* * *

 _Location: Unity Staging Ground, twelve miles north of New Burgess  
Date: August 16_ _th_ _2073_  
Time: 03:26

 

" _Flight Control to Valhalla, permission granted. Proceed to Hangar Six."_

Their leader had barely guided the  _Valhalla_ into Hangar Six for repairs and pulled back on the taxiing-thrusters before Astrid punched the large red button to lower the exit ramp, eager to get out of the drop-ship. If the brash, headstrong Valkyrie had to be honest, it felt like she was trapped in a sardine can despite the comparatively wide open space within the craft. Even their uniforms and special body suits felt constricting and claustrophobic. The blonde Valkyrie wasn't sure whether it was truly down to the  _Valhalla_  or the armour…or her role as a Valkyrie itself.

A quick glance at the pilot seat told her the same story she had seen many, many times before.

Snow Queen fiddling with a pouch on her utility belt.  
Snow Queen opening a small metal case.  
Snow Queen fishing something out of said case and tossing it into her mouth.

She doubted very much that Elsa was an addict in any way shape or form – for a start, one of Unity's first acts upon its rise to power was to declare illegal any and all drugs that were not explicitly created for medical use, and enforced that ruling by destroying every single type of narcotic that existed and imprisoning anyone who had even the slightest hint of an illegal substance upon them. It was a heavy handed tactic but it worked – drugs had all but been eradicated within Unity territory and the people deeply trusted the dictatorial government from then on. No more gang warfare. No more junkies cluttering up Unity's perfect world. The public was too wrapped up in celebrating the success of the victory over drugs that they failed to realise exactly how Unity achieved it and how they planned to maintain it – fear.

Possession of something as innocuous as marijuana carried a charge of sedition and a twenty year imprisonment sentence, and God help you if you were caught with cocaine.

It was for this reason that Astrid knew Elsa wasn't taking an illegal substance, but her intake was so irregular, as though it was to fend off a headache or something. Since the Battle of the Depot, she had taken at least two more than she usually would. Maybe it was something to help with a pre-existing pain – which was also bullshit, as Unity offered genetic resequencing to anyone that could afford it…meaning disabilities and congenital defects were all but extinct in the world of Unity.

Astrid decided that, one day, she would find out precisely what was going on – but not tonight. No, the most important thing was sleep. She just hoped the debriefing didn't take long.

As she exited the craft with Rapunzel and Merida, the former having relocated her shoulder joint back into its socket hours previously, Elsa quickly caught up with them and silently took the lead. None of the Valkyries said a word to each other, mostly because they were too tired. That, and Astrid's shoulder was still sore as fuck.

With the cool night breeze dancing around their faces, and the sounds of the night shift mechanics grumbling behind them about the damage to the  _Valhalla's_ hull, the Valkyries made their way towards the base's command structure, the building where plans were made and executed, attacks or troop movements were co-ordinated and communications were made between the high-ranking staff and the Supreme Commander, and if they were lucky, the Unifier himself.

The gentle humming sound of a small hover-cart reached Elsa's ears as they walked across the huge concrete space towards the command building, passing several squads undergoing drill practice, and the Valkyrie's stopped in their tracks as a small cart pulled up in front of them. In annoyance, she turned her gaze to the driver that twisted in his seat to address her, and hoped it was something good.

"Valkyrie Leader Snowfield, Commander Larsen has requested your presence for mission debrief." The driver announced, fixing her with an expectant gaze. Elsa's mouth twitched at the man; she expected a debriefing anyway, but the use of a travel cart was welcome with how fatigued her legs were feeling. As the vehicle had no doors, it was a simple matter of sliding into the seat by the driver and while she made herself relatively comfortable, Astrid, Merida and Rapunzel moved closer to the passenger seats, only to be stopped by the shaking of the driver's head.

"Sorry. Only Valkyrie Leader Snowfield is required for the debriefing."

All three heads turned to Elsa for silent clarification, which they received in the form of a single, respectful nod, and within the space of about three seconds the driver pushed the accelerator lever forward and the hover cart surged into motion taking the Valkyrie leader across the concrete path, took a right at the command building and then disappeared left around the corner where the entrance to it was situated.

"See ye later then, Elsa." Merida grumpily muttered, offering a middle finger at the back of the cart, and the passenger inside.

"Let's just go. Faster we get to our quarters, the faster we can get some sleep. My shoulder is still killing me." Astrid sighed, wincing as she rolled her shoulder a little more to try and prevent it from locking up. A little growl escaped her imperceptibly sneering lips as she turned her back on the command building and made her way to the largest single-floor building affectionately called  _'The Valkyrie Quarter'_ on the far right of the Staging Ground, approximately five hundred yards to the right of the repair hangar.

"I'll see what I can do for it when we get there. I'm just happy he didn't do anything worse." Rapunzel offered as she walked to Astrid's left.

"Aye, he coulda killed ye both." Merida said in agreement, to Astrid's right. Without Elsa's presence, soldiers could be forgiven for assuming the Valkyrie Second was the leader, given the half-a-head height advantage Astrid had.

"He didn't, so I guess that's the main thing. No wonder they're the best."

"That's the thing," Rapunzel frowned, scratching her short brown locks, "he could have but he didn't. I checked all of the depot staff, and they were  _all_  stunned. Not one of them was dead. The clones, well, they were kinda trashed but…it's like they tried their best  _not_  to kill the depot staff. I don't get it."

"What's tae get?" Merida snapped, "as far as we're concerned, he's tha enemy. They all are."

"Is that Unity speaking or you, Bear?" Rapunzel asked, casting her comrade a pointed glance. Merida was about to open her mouth with a snappy retort when Astrid had enough and stopped them, a hundred feet from the Valkyrie Quarter door.

"That's  _enough_ , sisters," she hissed, quietly enough that only her team-mates could hear, "if she hears you talking like that…who knows what'll happen."

"…I was thinking…about Snow Queen…" Rapunzel muttered meekly. She was no shrinking violet, but something in that reprimand took her a little aback.

"What about her?" Astrid asked, fixing her with an intense stare.

"Do we tell her?"

"Tell her  _what?_ "

"Ye  _know_  what, Astrid." Merida hissed, clearly on the same page as Rapunzel. Astrid stiffened as though someone had hit her with a minor electrical charge, and with her eyes darting left, right, and every which way, she placed a firm hand on Rapunzel's upper back, guiding her around the corner of the Valkyrie Quarter out of sight of the main Staging Ground. Once there, she waited for a few seconds with her eyes looking past Merida and Rapunzel's shoulders, and convinced that she wouldn't be heard, she leaned in a little and muttered as quietly as she possibly could, for what would hopefully be the last time on that particular subject.

"She may be our commanding officer and squad leader, she might be the one that gives us the orders, but she is  _not_  our friend. She's too hardcore, too blinded by vengeance against this Frost guy. Either of you tell her anything; we're  _all_  on a one-way trip to Sedition City."

Astrid stared for a long time into Merida's orbs of blue and Rapunzel's green, willing them to understand the conviction behind her words.

"She can  _never_  know."

* * *

Contrary to the relative regularity of the outside world – ordered marches across the vast concrete space by one squad, regimented press-ups and sit-ups by another, and wide circuits completed by a third squad jogging to the verbal beat of  _"I don't know what I've been told"_ , something that Elsa was starkly familiar with as it was a core part of her training – the inside of the command centre was filled with a moderately loud, restrained, frenetic ambience.

As she entered, she was greeted with the sight of three officers stood on a stage to the right of the entrance, their eyes on an ethereal blue representation of a ruined city landscape. Judging by the slight hesitance in their voices as they shot orders at the company leaders who would then react by manipulating images across miniature hovering windows and detail the soldiers' movements to a startling degree as they stood a few metres in front of the stage, she noted that the officers must be there for their final command exam.

Given that her clearance level was not high enough to remain in the room for long, the chaperone that masqueraded as her driver hustled the Valkyrie leader towards the steel door on the other side of the strategy room, but she nonetheless liked to watch the battle simulations unfold. In a time of war, this room would be used for real-time situational analysis and co-ordination; generals or battalion commanders would stand on the stage and watch skirmishes or full-size invasions take place on a holographic blue representation that hovered in the middle of the room, barking orders and changing tactics on the fly, but as Unity and the Empyrean Alliance shared a tenuous form of peace that could be accurately defined as the Second Cold War, the strategy room was used for simulation and training purposes only.

As they walked, Elsa's cerulean eyes lingered upon the holographic simulation of a real-time battle in what she assumed to be Alliance territory, and watched as small renderings of clone soldiers engaged other clone soldiers in a bird's eye view of a city landscape, filled with skeletal impressions of overturned hover-cars, rubble and bodies. Some 'clones' took cover behind cars and suppressed the enemy with rifle fire while another squad carefully peeled off to flank them, while trying not to be flanked themselves. Generally, that was Unity's tactic. Engage and flank. Engage and flank.

Elsa watched as the Unity squads succeeded in dislodging the Alliance troops from their defensive positions and summarily vanquished them, paving the way for the translucent armoured division to travel through the shimmering blue simulation of the city street…only for a wing of Alliance  _Shrike-class_  gunships to swoop down and effortlessly obliterate the tank column.

Just before the chaperone opened the door into the corridor leading to the briefing-slash-communications room, Elsa smirked as she heard the commanding officer that was tasked with tutoring the aspiring battalion commander recruits calmly reprimand them for failing to co-ordinate with the 31st Airborne Drone Wing, which was  _supposed_  to have engaged those gunships before they even left their airbases. As a result, hundreds of lives were lost; the troops already engaged in fierce fighting in the mock-up of London had no armoured support and were pushed back to the Thames. The commanding officer took great pleasure in explaining that from their error, the Alliance was able to dislodge Unity's foothold in their territory and force them to abandon the invasion, which would then lead to one hell of a vengeful counter-attack on Unity soil.

Before the door closed behind her, she caught the final words –  _"You're all lucky this was a simulated invasion, but it gives me great pleasure to tell you that you failed the exam. Restart the program for the next bunch of idiots, please."_

The chaperone led Elsa along a brightly lit corridor that ran adjacent to the simulation room, and Elsa initially squinted for the first fifteen or so seconds while her eyes adjusted to the blindingly white walls. Why the architects chose this ridiculous colour scheme she didn't know, but it made her eyes sting with the sudden change in brightness.

As she drew closer to the briefing room, her mind automatically went back to the depot raid, and she felt the heat of frustration begin to simmer in her heart once more. She went there with the intent of either capturing or ending Jack Frost, and came back successful in neither. To top it off, her initial questioning of the scouts prior to the arrival of Inquisitor Jafar and his unit had been less than illuminating – all she received from the one called Sneak was the recipe for an oddly delicious sounding chocolate brownie.

In a strangely existential thought, she also wondered what would happen when she did avenge her parents. She was a Valkyrie purely for that reason. She wasn't there to make friends, or to further Unity's cause, but to send Jack Frost back to the hell he came from. What would be left of her when she did? Would she leave the squad and try to make a life for herself in this world of curfews and propaganda? No, she knew what she would do, and that was to find her sister and bring her home. Despite being locked away for three years on that terrible day, and only coming out of her room when her sister was out of the house, she missed her deeply. She hated how she was torn away from her, like a photograph ripped apart in a moment of anger.

No matter who she was, no matter her role in the forces of Unity, she still loved her sister.

Perhaps that was what made that day hurt all the more, the feeling of losing her entire family. Maybe that was what drove her to find the Ghosts, so she could get some answers  _before_  she ended them.

Her state of deep thought was jarred by the pointed coughing of the chaperone, and in the few seconds it took for her to come back to the present, she suppressed the embarrassment as she noticed him holding open for her the door to the briefing room, a mildly impatient expression on his features. Muttering terse thanks, she swept past him and entered the room.

Hung on the wall to her left was a large painting of what the artist called  _Convergence_. It featured a circle of people facing outwards, their hands interlocking with each other, surrounding a long pole. Upon it flew the flag of Unity, a stylised representation of six people in a perfectly geometric pattern, each person holding hands. Elsa always thought it loosely resembled a snowflake, but the insignia did convey a sense of unease in her gut, as their feet seemed to shrink into the oblivion that constituted the "snowflake's" centre point.

Splitting the room lengthways was a long, battleship grey table with at least twenty chairs around it, the larger one at the far end reserved for the base commander who, at that moment, was stood with his hands behind his back gazing at a Uni-Com glass interface that was at  _least_  three times the size as her own and dominated the entire far wall in the rectangular room.

Clad in his usual commander's uniform - a grey officer's jacket with rich blue trousers - he stood with his back to her, speaking in quiet tones to a slightly older man who looked oddly similar to him save for an immaculately styled auburn beard. She didn't need to see his face to recognise the man who offered her a place on the Valkyrie program, was there every step of the way during her training and gave her command of the squad. In a strange way, she had become close to him, the initial discomfort in her stomach during the first few weeks having moved aside for something that could be defined as reliance. It was almost like the quiet rivalry between her house and his no longer existed.

"Commander Larsen? Valkyrie Leader Snowfield reporting as ordered, sir."

Hans turned his head from the enlarged screen and, upon seeing Elsa stood to rigid attention, flashed her one of his warm and welcoming smiles, usually reserved only for her.

"Ah! Elsa. Please, there's no need for ceremony-"

"Brother, you know as well as she does that military guidelines state-" the man on the screen interjected with an air of indignant offense.

"My dear Henrik, as always you are correct. However, I think that in this instance, after all the Valkyries have done in capturing the abnormal groups, she has earned the right to skip the usual pleasantries?" Hans defended, cocking an eyebrow and a half smirk.

"Oh, forgive me, you haven't had the pleasure. Valkyrie Leader Elsa Snowfield, this is my brother and the head of our illustrious armed forces, Supreme Commander Henrik Larsen. Brother, this is Elsa."

Henrik's eyes gave Elsa the once-over, his eyes tracing up and down her specialist body armour as though he was judging whether or not she was worthy to be in his presence, albeit from the other side of a Uni-Com screen.

"I know who you are. Your successes have not gone unnoticed," he said in a clipped tone, before turning his attention back to his younger brother, "We will continue our  _classified_ discussion another time, Commander. Also, the Unifier demands a prompt update on the…prototype."

Elsa caught an almost imperceptible roll of Hans' eyes at the condescending finish to Henrik's sentence, and smirked inside. The Valkyrie Program was allegedly ridiculed at the highest level of command, but Hans always stuck with it…and so far, his loyalty had been fruitful.

"Tell him that it will be ready in three months."

Henrik studied him for a moment with a suspicious, narrow-eyed gaze, and then cantankerously waved his hand across his side of the screen to end the communication, leaving only the pale blue standby interface with the words " _Standing By…"_  slowly flashing in the centre and a news ticker tracing a line across the bottom, which currently read:

" _IT IS YOUR CIVIC DUTY TO REPORT ANY SUSPECTED INSTANCES OF SEDITION AND ANTI-STATE BEHAVIOUR. ONLY WITH YOUR HELP WILL OUR SOCIETY PROSPER. UNITY IN THOUGHT, UNITY IN DEED."_

Elsa mentally remarked that it was different from the Unifier's usual propaganda. That one left out the threats, at least.

"You'll have to excuse my brother; he's a stickler for protocol." Hans offered apologetically.

"Of course, sir."

"Elsa, please. It's approaching four in the morning, you must be tired. Let's drop the customary charade and get the debriefing over with." he smiled. Elsa offered one in return, a curl of relief.

"Yes, sir."

"Please, from the beginning." he said, gesturing for her to start relaying the events of the battle.

She took a deep breath and began from the moment they were attacked by what Astrid described to be a black, winged creature that could breathe blue fire, offering every detail from then up until the Ghosts' escape on their personal drop-ship. She explained Jack Frost's fighting style, what she understood of Pitch's, and included the part where he nonchalantly dislocated Astrid's shoulder while he made Rapunzel watch. Hans' attention was solely focused upon her, his green eyes radiating interest and his mind processing every single detail. When Elsa finished relaying the events, he nodded gently while stroking his chin with his left hand, his eyes off to the side in thought. Elsa had to admit, her body was crying for sleep at that point and she just wanted the debriefing to be over – and after what felt like an eternity, Hans finally spoke.

"In your opinion, Elsa, how successful was your mission?"

Her eye twitched in response as she bit the inside of her lip, she hoped that this question wouldn't be asked as her response would be nothing less than honest.

"I believe it was a failure, sir. The Ghosts escaped with two thirds of the fuel cell cargo, we lost more than six squads of clone soldiers, over thirty depot guards were made to look like minimum-credit shopping centre staff and…"

Hans cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, and offered a warm supportive smile.

"And what, Elsa?"

"Jack Frost is still alive."

Hans regarded her for a few seconds as his mind considered his next responses. Elsa couldn't deny it; she was frustrated by the mission's lack of success in its real objective, and that frustration carried over into her opinions. Evidently her commander understood this, given the relative leeway in how she was able to speak in his presence. He uttered a quiet  _"hmm"_  of contentment, and placing his right hand on her shoulder, he leaned his head slightly so he was close to her height.

"I don't think it was a failure, Elsa. They managed to flee with only two thirds of the fuel cells. You injured two of their most dangerous soldiers, and we managed to acquire four members of their scout team, which we both know act as their eyes and ears. From what you told me, I can see that they are desperate, Elsa. Please, this is a victory. Take it as such."

Elsa shook her head, and the stray hairs that were trying to escape from the tight bun on her head wafted around with the sudden movement.

"But sir, they escaped! By the time we were able to return to the  _Valhalla_ , they were long gone. We have no idea where to find them." she protested, uncertain as to why Hans' demeanour was so calm. He seemed to be blinkered to the problems they faced when it came to finding the Ghosts, and where the prisoners they rescued were hidden.

"In time," he said with a glint in his eye that could  _almost_  be construed as knowing, "we will, Elsa. Be patient. If it makes you feel any better, I was talking about precisely this to Henrik before you arrived. Did you know he collects butterflies? Do you know how they are displayed, in order to be viewed by all?"

Elsa nodded. "Yes to both questions, sir."

"Good! Then you'll understand the metaphor. The Ghost squad has its back against the wall, much like the butterfly. Your team of Valkyries will be the nail that impales them as an example to all those who threaten our great society."

Hans' voice took on a tone of barely restrained pride, and calm excitement, as though he had an entire game of chess planned out in his mind and was just waiting for the moment to administer a swift and brutal checkmate.

"All we need is a  _hammer_."

* * *

_COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _**03:04:20:05:42** _

* * *

 


	6. Tastefully Athletic

" _So…everyone on this ship has…powers?"_

_Anna and Snow White – or Neve, as she preferred to be called – had spent the better part of the previous forty five minutes simply walking through the belly of the steel beast. In her mind, she had woken up in a completely different place to where she used to lay her weary head at night, in a boat full of strangers and a world vastly different from the one she remembered. As if everything had changed overnight – which, in a sense, everything had._

_That was probably why, rather than meet in the confines of her office, the thirty-two year old invited Anna to join her on her daily rounds around the ship. That way she could become familiar with it, slowly acclimatise into life aboard the Star._

_In the past forty five minutes, she learned more about the so-called Abnormal Resistance than anything that Unity newscasts and propaganda had ever taught her. The people had been living on the ship for about four years prior to her arrival, and the only reason that the Guardian Star had not been sunk by either Unity or the Alliance was because it sailed in the thirty degree longitude line that was called the Dead Zone, named as such due to the heavy interference that was created where the two superpowers' jamming signals overlapped, which screwed with any sensors that either side utilised within the Zone. Essentially, pilots had to fly by sight alone. That created a pseudo neutral line – "this is your half, this is my half. If we see you in the Dead Zone, we'll assume you're hostile and consider it an act of war". Divorce proceedings on a larger scale, she mused with acid amusement._

_So, the Star sat happily within the Zone, masquerading as a ghost ship – Neve actually used that term with a straight face – and any drop-ship sorties were conducted in the dead of night to avoid suspicion. They had no doubt that eventually their luck would run out, and as such were developing plans to migrate to a permanent residence in one of the old Third World War bunker systems in Greenland – the eastern side of which also sat in the field of interference. Always making plans to survive, it seemed._

" _Yes, nearly all of us have abilities. I myself can communicate with nature and animal life, which as you can imagine caused a stir with my step-mother. She considered me an abomination, and tried to poison me."_

" _Oh my God…" Anna gasped, stunned at the revelation that Neve so matter-of-factly stated, that her own family tried to kill her out of fear. The way she spoke so nonchalantly…the strawberry blonde wondered if she would be as comfortable with what happened as Neve was. With her hands held comfortably behind her back as she walked by Anna's side, and wearing an expression of contentment, the leader of the abnormal group looked almost happy with life aboard the Star, under constant threat of discovery._

" _Oh, don't worry. It's all in the past, and I accept who I am now. In fact, those of us with useful powers have put them to good use, for the benefit of us all." Neve shrugged, though Anna caught the distinct curl of pride upon those red lips._

" _How?" she asked, her curiosity growing and growing with each titbit of information._

" _Well, Mr Haddock is what you would call a genius when it comes to engineering; his abnormality rewired his brain so he has instinctual knowledge of the inner workings of any gadget or device, or indeed this ship itself, without learning about it first. Anything that needs fixing aboard our home, he sees to it, and it was due to his efforts that the Star now has…teeth. In point of fact, he also created most of the technology that the Ghosts use for their missions…with Master Hamada's help of course. In addition, he and Toothless also conduct fishing runs to supplement our food stores."_

" _Wow…he sounds…geeky." Anna found herself at a loss for anything else to say. Neve's lips cracked apart with laughter while they passed one of the three cafeterias on board._

" _Hah! Quite. Mr Pitchinier, who you would know as Pitch Black, has taken on the duties of education in our home-"_

" _Wait, what?" Anna gaped incredulously. She couldn't quite picture the tall, slender, vicious looking Ghost as a socially capable human being, let alone a teacher._

" _Oh yes. He collects historical items from the world before the Third War, and as such has become quite knowledgeable regarding that time period. He sees to the education of our older children and some adults, teaching them about the world before, how we abnormals were used as weapons in the war…and he even teaches mathematics. If you have questions regarding that, might I suggest stopping by one of his lectures two days from now? It could be informative for you."_

" _Huh…I had no idea. He always seemed so…" Anna muttered thoughtfully, her intrigue and curiosity rising with each second. It was peculiar, even being on this ship with strangers and unfamiliar surroundings…the more she heard, the more she liked._

" _Vicious? Indeed, that is one of his more…disturbing qualities. However, it does derive from his experience when he bloomed, and the undying protectiveness he feels towards our kind."_

" _What happened?"_

" _That is something he will tell you when he is ready." Neve spoke, an edge of firmness and finality to her voice as the smile fell to a thin line. Anna wisely decided to let the subject drop._

" _What about Jack?"_

_Neve's lips returned to their genial, warm curl as she suddenly stopped and held out an arm, forcing Anna to do the same. Regarding the older woman with a confused rising of her brow, she slowly became aware of the sound of childish squeals and laughter mingling with older, manic chuckles from the corner to their left. Seconds later, the blur of a grinning, cackling Jack came tearing around the corner and raced ahead of them, completely oblivious to the two women, chased by a dozen small children toting snowballs and expressions of sheer joy. Anna watched as he tried in vain to hide in one of the rooms ahead, and her own laughter joined with Neve's as they observed the children stop in the doorway and begin assaulting the unfortunate Ghost with their snowy ammunition, his yelps and guffaws filling the ship with mirth._

" _Jack? He's our entertainment." Neve giggled, her eyes crinkling with warmth and motherly love._

" _I can see that!" Anna grinned, thankful for the brief pause to allow her sides to stop hurting…but gasped as the realisation of Neve's earlier words, and the currently one-sided snowball fight hit her like…a snowball, "wait, you have_ families _on board?!"_

* * *

 

 _Location: Atlantic Ocean, 400 miles south of Greenland  
Date: August 18_ _th_ _, 2073_  
_Time: 10:05_

"Jack. Wake up."

As the second in command, Jack had to be present for any meetings that Kristoff had with Neve, purely because that's how it was. Even if he felt his time would be better spent playing with the younger children on the ship – for the record, several of them were painfully accurate with indoor snowball fights – he had to be there.

All meetings or briefings conducted on the ship that required Neve's attention were held in a converted bedroom. A large, rectangular steel table cut the room in two, with six chairs placed equally around its sides – Neve occupied the one at the head of the table, while Kristoff sat at the one directly beside her and Jack sat to his right. Pictures of the  _Star_ adorned the walls, relics of when it saw service in the Third World War as uplifting images of sea power. Jack's favourite was the one behind the leader's head that had a picture of the bow of the ship, and under which sat the words:  _"90,000 TONS OF DIPLOMACY"_.

A sheet of paper sat in front of each of the table's occupants. Kristoff's sheet was blank, Neve's had several sentences scribbled across it…and Jack's head was laid upon his as he snoozed peacefully, blissfully ignorant to the conversation.

There was nothing in the verbal Ghost contract that said he had to be  _awake_  for these meetings, however, and trust Kristoff to put a dent in his happy snoozing – or at least, attempt to. It took three calls of his name and the inevitable whap of the back of his head to get the bored Ghost to wake up. Startled, he jerked upright with the rude awakening and darted his head from side to side around of Neve's office for no apparent reason, mildly disoriented as though he had stirred in a completely different room.

Not to mention the piece of paper stuck to his left cheek as a result of him drooling.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" he stammered, believed by no-one. The disorientation passing, he was still unaware of the paper stuck his face as he slowly glanced between Neve and Kristoff.

"…what were we talking about?" he murmured, bleary eyes glancing between the two as he groggily smacked his lips.

Kristoff rolled his eyes while Neve chuckled, shaking her head with exasperation. Jack finally became aware of the triangle of white in his vision, and confusedly peeled the paper from his cheek, blushing slightly at being caught in the act of being bored to sleep.

"Kristoff and I were discussing plans to throw you overboard." Neve deadpanned.

"Ha-ha."

"No, really. You could freeze a nice big patch of the sea, and then we could all go skating." Kristoff added, smirking.

"Like the ice would support  _your_  huge ass, Kristoff." Jack retorted snarkily, ducking to avoid yet another whap on his head.

"Keep it up, Snowcone, I'll break your  _skinny_  ass in two." Kristoff taunted, his smirk growing.

"Skinny?  _Skinny?_ " Jack gaped with mock indignation in his tone as he lifted his black T-shirt up to reveal his moderately toned abs and chest – a result of many years of irregular workouts and frequent combat, "I am  _not_  skinny. This right here is called 'tastefully athletic'."

"Gentlemen, enough," Neve chuckled wearily, "let's get back to the depot raid, shall we?"

"Sure."

"My skinny ass agrees." Jack sniggered, nudging a chortling Kristoff in the side.

Neve's mirth dwindled to quiet amusement, signified only by the light curling of her red lips. She leaned on the table, laced her fingers together and regarded Kristoff with an interested expression, her ears standing by to take on board everything the Ghost leader was about to say.

That was pretty much how things went aboard the  _Star_ , as leader of the small group of "free" abnormals, Neve's duty was to manage everything from application of specific skills – Jack's power came in handy for refrigerating food, for example – to power allocation via the fuel cells. Any disagreements were mediated by her too, though she was wise enough to delegate what she could.

However, details concerning the Ghosts or any of the land-based teams that  _used_  to exist required her full attention and only hers, and as Kristoff ran through the battle itself, their thoughts and opinions in addition to what they managed to escape with, Jack noticed how the past few years had taken their toll on the youthfully pretty woman. Her eyes, rather than glimmering with hope and promise, looked weary and forlorn. The constant bad news, the dwindling supplies, the increasingly risky raids that the Ghosts had to undergo just to keep their kind going…Neve looked exhausted with the perpetual worry. Yet, she always smiled.

"How long can we expect our current stock of fuel cells to last?" she asked, the question causing Kristoff to shuffle uncomfortably.

"Well," he said, choosing his words with great care, "taking into account the six drop-ships in the hangar, the four turrets on the deck…six at a time to compensate for the non-existent nuclear reactor…a year. Maybe eighteen months."

"Well, that's not too bad I suppose. I asked for an inventory of our food supplies, and found that we're in bad shape as far as that's concerned. Had the Valkyries not intervened during that raid, we would have been able to survive fairly comfortably on the food spoils for at least six months. Now…I hate to say it, but I'll have to ration what's left, and prioritise children and mothers." Neve sighed grimly, slumping back on her chair with her left hand laced across her upper lip in thought.

"My team can survive on our ration bars for as long as you need, Neve." Kristoff declared with a hint of pride in his voice as well as reassurance. Jack nodded in agreement.

"Speaking of your team, may I enquire as to its current operational state?" she asked, her eyes flicking over to the Ghost leader. Jack carefully observed her expression as she waited for Kristoff to answer – her pale face was impassive but interested, yet her honey-brown eyes held a glimmer of planning, as though Kristoff's answer would dictate her next move. The burly man exhaled deeply, and throughout the discussions that he and Jack held in the days between now and the previous debriefing, it was as though every other option that he had considered escaped his mouth with his breath to leave only one conclusion.

"We're operationally grounded. Scout Team Red was our eyes and ears on the mainland, and they were the last group we had. We could train more…but I think we'd be sending more people to be captured. As of now, my team is unable to perform its primary function of search-and-rescue, raids and cloning facility attacks. We're flying blind."

Those were the words that Kristoff never uttered to Jack beforehand, and despite both of them coming to the same silent conclusion, it still hurt to hear them spoken. For four years, the Ghosts had been going strong, managing to complete their objectives and evade Unity with relative impunity. It seemed that the dictatorial government had grown tired of chasing after 'Ghost stories' and decided to cripple the team by breaking its fingers, each digit representing each scout team or sympathiser source.

Neve exhaled deeply, her eyes now shining with empathy for Kristoff's situation. As always, though, she could adapt – and if she could then so would her kind.

"That is most unfortunate to hear. In that case, I believe that the team should now focus on their assigned roles within the  _Star_  for the time being. Agreed?"

Kristoff and Jack both paused for a second to let the information and decision sink in, glancing at each other with looks of grim resignation on their faces. It was a horrible thought, but a logical conclusion. For now, their role as a paramilitary group was over and if the current situation continued, the Ghosts would remain functionally disbanded. Eventually, Jack bit his lip and swallowed his pride to nod along with Kristoff.

"I am sorry. I know how important the team is to the both of you and to us as a people." Neve sighed sadly as she looked down onto her paper, unconsciously pointing her pencil at a particular sentence halfway down the sheet. Kristoff didn't miss it.

"You already planned for that, didn't you?" he asked without a trace of accusation or anger but simple matter-of-fact comprehension. Neve nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving the paper.

"Yes. When I heard of the Valkyrie intervention from Mr Fitzherbert along with the…manner…in which your team escaped-"

Kristoff exhaled loudly and deeply through his nose when he was reminded of the order he made. It was one that he stood by – but still wished he hadn't needed to make.

"-in addition to the injuries sustained by both Mr Frost and Mr Pitchinier, I suspected this day would come. Therefore, I have assigned tasks for you to give to your team. Mr Haddock will focus on ship maintenance and fishing flights. Miss Snowfield will conduct firearms training and marksmanship sessions for anyone that desires to learn. Mr Pitchinier will continue his classes for the youngsters, in addition to conducting hand-to-hand combat classes. You, Mr Bjorgman, will assist me in the running of the ship and any other tasks that require your presence."

Neve quietly exhaled through her nose, laced her fingers together and leaned once more upon the table, fixing Jack with a look that danced between apologetic and firm.

"I am not ignorant, however. I refuse to allow our kind to be blind to all that moves. Mr Overland, this is a question that you should not take lightly-"

"I'll do it." Jack interrupted decisively, completely on her wavelength. Kristoff frowned at him.

"You don't know what I was going to suggest…"

"You were about to ask me to fly to the mainland. From there, I can talk to our sources, watch the Unity news feeds, try and find out what I can about the Valkyries and – basically – be there to give you a heads up if things are gonna go south. Like I said, I'll do it." he replied firmly and with finality. Neve studied him for a few more seconds, a little taken aback at the speed in which he agreed.

"Mr Overland, this could be risky and dangerous. You have every right to decline."

"Neve, I'm the best person for the job. Kristoff and Anna can't fly, Hiccup's job is pretty important here and Kozmotis…yeah I'm not going there. Oh, and if you're thinking about the kids, don't worry. Anna's great with them."

Jack smirked internally when his eyes caught the scarlet flush that appeared on Kristoff's cheeks, and the dreamy, faraway look in those brown orbs. He was in love, no doubt about it. Even Neve had to suppress a small curling of the lips – despite her role as a leader, she was a romantic at heart.

"So," he said, smiling with mild excitement, "when do I start?"

"I think you should leave tonight," Kristoff answered, and Neve nodded in agreement, "as soon as the sun sets. Use one of the safe-houses in New Burgess. I'm pretty sure our last source lives in that city – but remember – he likes things done in a particular way."

"Yeah, yeah. I know the score." Jack scoffed, dismissively waving his right hand.

"Good! Then I believe-"

The heavy steel door opened with a sharp clunk, disturbing all three to the point that Jack ever so slightly jumped. All eyes flicked to the doorway, where Eugene's head poked through with an expectant impression.

"You wanted to see… _oh,_ " he began, his face and voice darkening upon seeing Kristoff, "sorry. I didn't know you were busy."

The burly leader steeled his face and regarded Eugene with an expression of perfect indifference, but Jack could still see the guilt in his eyes as he glanced between his and Eugene's unimpressed features.

"No, no. We were just finishing. Please, come in. Mr Bjorgman, I'll see you later. Mr Overland, take all the time you need to prepare."

Jack and Kristoff nodded their acknowledgement and simultaneously rose from their chairs to make their way to the door. Eugene stood aside to let them pass, respectfully inclining his head to Jack while shooting Kristoff a glower.

It was as he and his leader parted company – Kristoff wanted to personally break the news to his team – and set off toward his quarters that he mused to himself how the excursion to Unity-controlled America could actually be quite fun – at least he'd be away from all the tension between Kristoff and Eugene.

He would desperately miss the kids, though.

* * *

 

_Time: 14:33_

"How long will you be gone?"

Anna's tentative, concerned question elicited a sense of uncertainty in Jack's mind, for it was one he had no answer to. He could be in the mainland for a couple of weeks, or a couple of years. It all depended on when Kristoff felt it necessary to recall him. He frowned as he watched the assorted four, five and six year olds all play together in a makeshift kindergarten, his eyes particularly on a six year old boy called Jamie Bennett, who came with his sister Sophie when his mother developed her gifts. Even though they were not abnormals yet, Neve didn't believe it was right to separate the parents from their children – therefore, when Jamie's mother was rescued, he and his sister came along too. In a way, the young boy reminded him of his own family who long thought him dead, especially in how the cackling lad chased his little sister around the room, pelting her with several soft balls.

Jack glanced over at Anna as she gazed expectantly at him, stiffly sat on a chair by his side, still sporting her black tank top and military trousers but wearing twin strawberry blonde braids that sat upon each shoulder, and remembered exactly  _why_  he felt a sense of protectiveness towards her. Anna was still very much a person who, despite her stern and fiery attitude during operations and the fact that she could easily take care of herself, wore her heart on her sleeve. Over the three years since her rescue, he and Anna had grown very close – not as close as she was with Kristoff, obviously – so he could comfortably say she was his best friend, which is why it pricked at his heart that he didn't know how long he'd be.

'Ballpark guess', then.

"Eh, couple of months. Maybe longer." he said nonchalantly, throwing in a shrug to appear as unfazed as possible. The problem in his mind was that he really didn't want to discuss the topic of his departure while around the children, especially as the older ones could easily sense tension within a room.

"Look, can we talk about this later? I just…I wanna make the most of this, is all." he sighed.

"Okay, but I'm holding you to that." she warned, lightly thumping his arm for emphasis.

A snigger escaped his mouth as he watched Jamie freeze in his tracks – allowing a squealing Sophie to gain distance from him – and then promptly dive into a soft-block tower that the other kids had meticulously constructed, much to their dismay. In revenge they dog-piled him mercilessly, though it did nothing to stop him from evilly cackling in victory.

"Haha! Jamiezilla strikes again!" came a cheer from somewhere under the pile of pint-sized giggling bodies.

"You gonna be okay with the pipsqueaks? They can be a handful." Jack asked, smirking. Anna rolled her eyes and lightly pushed his shoulder.

"Pfft. If I can handle  _you_ , these little guys will be no problem." she scoffed, chuckling.

"Glad to hear it. Jamie likes stories about Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, Sophie likes to hop around like a bunny, Alexander…he can throw a hissy fit over the slightest thing. Sarah loves to play football; Angela likes to draw flowers, Michael-"

"Jack."

It wasn't until Anna's calm but firm voice rang out between them, as quiet as a distant clap of thunder, that he realised he had been rambling with worry. He wanted to see the kids one last time before he left even though it was a good five hours away, just in case something went wrong on the mainland, and despite his attempts to keep his emotions concealed…his love for the kids would always,  _always_  break through that wall.

"Sorry," he muttered, awkwardly running a hand through his snowy hair as he stared at a stationary pink ball, "I guess I just realised how much I'm gonna miss these little tykes, you know?"

Anna laced her right hand over Jack's left, and squeezed it reassuringly, tossing him a supportive smile. He finally tore his eyes away from the ball and glanced at his best friend's expression, and let his pent-up emotions out through a nervous chuckle.

"They'll be fine, Jack. I'll look after them. Come here, you big softie."

He grinned as Anna embraced him in a warm hug – taking care to avoid his stitches – and rubbed the base of his spine in support.

"Uncle Jack? Are you okay? Why are you hugging Anna?"

Pulling away from the friendly embrace at the sound of Jamie's voice, he grinned at the little boy as he reached out a hand to ruffle his hair, earning a  _'Hey!'_  of mild irritation as a pair of hands shot up to tidy up the mess on his head.

"I'm okay, kiddo," Jack soothed, smirking, "I've just got to go away for a while."

"Why?" The inevitable question was asked. Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair; the young ones were blissfully unaware of his and Anna's real roles on the  _Star_ , and he was intent on keeping it that way.

"…because, I have to meet some nice people, and solve a mystery."

"Why?"

Jack's face took on a clandestine expression, and he raised his right hand to the side of his mouth as though he was spreading gossip and rumours. Jamie leaned his ears in to listen to the  _special mission._

"It's a secret!" he whispered, comically shifting his eyes back and forth across the room.

"Okay!" Jamie whispered back, "but who will play with us when you're gone?"

Jack moved his hand to ruffle the boy's hair once more, earning another dismayed groan, and inclined his head towards his best friend.

"Aunty Anna will play with you while I'm gone. That okay, kiddo?" he grinned, glancing at her as she nodded her head emphatically with a beam of her own.

"Okay!" Jamie said brightly, and traipsed off to tackle yet another tower to the floor. Exasperated groans of  _"Jamie Bennett, no fair!"_  filled the room and Jack felt his heart melt as he watched the gaggle of young kids start tickling Jamie in revenge, led by a cackling Sophie. The white-haired Ghost vicariously played with them them for some time, perfectly content to absorb the childish fun, chuckles of his own mixing with the high-pitched laughter echoing throughout the room. Eventually, sighing with the knowledge that all good things come to an end, he rose from his chair, reluctant to leave the room but aware that he had spent enough time in the makeshift kindergarten – the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave.

"I should probably go and pack. Need to get my hair dyed too; my white hair is a bit of a giveaway, not to mention the fact that Snow Queen probably saw it."

Smiling, Anna rose from her chair as well, stroking his left arm with friendly support and affection. He glanced at her and curled his lips in an awkward smile, trying to avoid looking at the squealing play fight that was emerging.

"They'll probably be asleep by the time I leave so…tell them…tell them I said goodbye, would you?" he muttered, a crack in his voice as he tried to swallow down a lump that was beginning to form in his throat.

"Sure, I'll tell them. Although…"

Anna's expression went from supportive to impish, something that Jack wasn't altogether certain that he liked. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion as hers shone with the faux-innocence that kids possess when they're plotting something mischievous. He saw that look before, a year ago, half an hour prior to her stealing Hiccup's leg and hiding it under Jack's bed.

"…I have a better idea."

She turned to the children, now breathless and exhausted, and called at the top of her voice to make sure  _everyone_  heard.

"Hey kids! Uncle Jack's trying to escape! Get him!"

Jack's expression instantly became one of horror as, upon hearing Anna's mischievous directive, the entire kindergarten class suddenly found their hidden reserves of energy and rushed at him, pushing him down to the soft ground. Adult laughter mixed seamlessly with childish squeaks and giggles as they mercilessly drowned him in tickling fingers, and Anna couldn't help snorting as she watched Jack's legs flail about in comic terror, the rest of him hidden under a pile of children.

Her laughter at Jack's misfortune deepened when, upon freeing an arm from the swarm of pint-sized attackers, he gave her one hell of a middle finger.

* * *

  _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _ **03:02:08:26:59**_

* * *

 

 


	7. Highway to Hell

_Location: Atlantic Ocean, 400 miles south of Greenland  
Date: August 18_ _th_ _, 2073_  
_Time: 20:30_

People often wax lyrical about watching the sun as it completes its daily, regular-as-clockwork descent past the dark horizon, but those opinions could largely be found on land. Therefore, the splash of amber colour would always be framed or interrupted by man-made constructions or naturally-occurring obstructions like titanic mountains or, though the population had diminished somewhat over the years of technological progression and devastating war, sprawling forests of myriad greens and soft browns.

In Jack's humble opinion there was nothing wrong with that, but if you  _really_  wanted to watch the sun set, if you  _really_  wanted to marvel at its beautiful splendour, then only two ways existed. One was while soaring through the sky, using wispy clouds that exude an almost fiery orange glow of their own as a fluffy carpet…

…and the other was sat on the edge of the  _Star's_  deck with his hands splayed out behind him to support his weight, and his legs dangling towards the calm sea. He smiled respectfully as the blazing orb of light painted the sky in a hue of scarlet reds, amber flames and soft purples, with the sea reflecting those colours along with a golden line of light that cut the gentle waves in two.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

Of course, the moment had to be broken because his departure was imminent, a thought heralded by the calm, soft voice of Kristoff as he sat down beside him, his legs mimicking Jack's while his hands chose to rest themselves on his knees. It wasn't long before he imitated the white-haired man's expression of appreciation, even as the last vestiges of light slipped down behind the horizon.

"There's nothing like it. I like to come out here and watch, you know, just in case I never see it again." he agreed, his voice heavy with contented resignation.

"Yeah, I know. It's always around this time that you disappear for half an hour."

"Am I that predictable?" Jack quietly chuckled, his eyes still on the spot that the sun once occupied.

"Hardly," Kristoff scoffed, leaning over to nudge him with his shoulder, "you're only ever punctual when a sunset is concerned. Oh, did you pack everything you needed?"

Jack, who found that his upper body had suddenly become horizontal with the 'restrained' nudge from his chief, pushed himself up from the deck with a heavy wince. Once he was safely upright again, he went through the mental checklist in his mind that he had checked, revised and forgotten countless times in the past three hours. In preparation he had already donned his civilian clothes – blue hooded sweatshirt and brown pants, along with a pair of worn sneakers that  _used_  to be white – but everything else bar the bracer that held his collapsed staff was safely and untidily packed in his black duffel bag.

"Think so. Few snacks, my stun-pistol, fake I.D. card, mask and goggles, change of clothes…" he reeled off what he could remember, counting off his fingers for each item.

"Who are you going to be?"

"Christopher Ryan. S'why I dyed my hair brown. I figured my amazing, gorgeous-"

"-egotistical-" Kristoff muttered under his breath.

"-white hair would be a bit of a giveaway. Chris Ryan's hair is a lovely shade of chocolate brown." Jack said with a thickly veiled edge of sarcasm to his voice.

"Cool. Did you pack your iPod?" Kristoff asked pointedly, his raised brow indicating the relative importance of the question. It was a long flight to the mainland coast, and as much as Jack loved flying, he loved doing it to  _music_.

His treasured iPod was one thing he carried around nearly all the time, save for raids or missions where it could get damaged. A relic of the pre-Third World War era, he found it along with a pair of earphones inside a teacher's desk when the team explored an abandoned high school in what used to be called Maine, on a relatively peaceful goods run to collect anything that might be useful for education on the  _Star_. Naturally, being somewhat of a history buff, Kozmotis instantly wanted the device and a small scuffle started between him and Jack, right there in one of the high school's classrooms. Had they continued, the fight probably would have become bloody had it not been for the banshee-like shrieking of a small swarm of Reapers that were wandering through the area, and Kozmotis wisely abandoned the pursuit of the precious item.

Of course, the ancient lithium batteries were all but phased out, so in exchange for two weeks' immunity to pranks, Hiccup kindly fashioned together a power throttling interface that connected to what they surmised to be the dock connector at the base of the iPod, so that a stun-pistol's power cell could be used to charge it. Of course, the energy output of the cell would probably cause it to spontaneously combust, hence the power throttle.

At first it took him a while to understand how to operate the music-playing device, especially as it was archaic technology by their standards – but once he got the hang of it, he used it for everything. Travelling, working out, assaulting punch bags, target practice…anything that didn't require interaction with other people. It had been in his possession for so long, he wondered how he ever got by without it.

"Oh yeah," he grinned, patting the pocket of his sweater, "never leave home without it."

"Cool. Guess you're ready then." Kristoff observed, attempting to appear unfazed. It didn't work, he was as nervous about this as Jack was. As far as he was concerned, he was sending one of his best men to one of the larger hubs within Unity-controlled America, alone, with only a stun pistol and orders to call in every evening at sundown with either new information, or simply to let them know he was still alive.

For a time, an awkward and pregnant silence existed between the two men like a thick fog of unsaid words, strangling them with sentences that they didn't dare speak in case they broke some form of heretofore unknown superstition known only to the dark night that swallowed the world around them. There was one question on Jack's mind, though, one that he asked Anna a few days ago much to her amusement and secret mild disappointment.

"When are you gonna pop the question?"

Even in the dark, he could almost  _feel_  Kristoff's spine stiffen with surprise at the blunt question, and could almost  _sense_  the large hand instinctively reach into the pocket of his military pants to check that something precious still existed in there. Not to mention the not-so-quiet hitching of breath.

"I…I…er…s-soon." he stammered, completely taken aback by the out-of-the-blue query.

"Hope so. She loves you, you know? Ever since she came on board, she had that funny look she reserved just for you. I mean, I don't really believe in love, and I'm probably not gonna find anyone before Unity puts a bullet in my head, but what you two have is special."

"I know. I love her too. So, so much. It's just…" Kristoff muttered with affection and fear in equal measure dancing on his words.

"What?"

"The worry that one of us might not come back from a mission, you know? If I propose to her…it makes that fear all the more real. Like, I don't know what I'd do if I lost her…" he trailed off, unwilling to entertain even the  _idea_  of thinking about the consequences.

"Well, as long as you're not intentionally keeping her out of harm's way to the point of compromising the mission, I'd say you're good." Jack shrugged. Given that it was so dark outside to the point that the two men were relying on their other senses for awareness of each other's presence, his gesture went unnoticed – as did the slumping of Kristoff's head at those words which  _sounded_ accusatory, yet weren't.

"Jack…"

"Dude, seriously. Get over your fears, get down on one knee, and get married. You two have something  _great_  going on, and in the world we live in, it's a rare thing. Besides, we're operationally grounded. No missions to risk our lives for." Jack groaned, taking solace in the knowledge that the accompanying roll of his eyes would go unnoticed by his chief and therefore wouldn't earn him another reprimanding head-whap.

"I guess you're right, I just-"

Jack heard Kristoff swiftly cut himself off as a lazily flickering light appeared in the corner of his eye, along with the strong yet feminine voice that could only be associated with one person.

"Hey, whatcha boys doing?" Anna queried as brightly as the small orb of flames that hovered over her open hand, held tentatively in front of her. Standing a few feet away from them, Jack wondered precisely how much she heard of their conversation, if anything. Under the soft, homely glow of her gift, he didn't miss how Kristoff's cheeks flushed, and how his mouth opened and closed as though caught in the act of something embarrassing. So, he decided to save him the trouble of coming up with a pitiful excuse.

"Hey, Anna. Nothing, I was just telling your boyfriend here that he needs to man up." he snickered, following it up with a yelp when Kristoff's hand connected for the umpteenth time with the back of his head.

"You know, if you keep goading him, he's going to  _literally_  knock your block off." Anna jokingly warned – something that her boyfriend agreed with judging by his emphatic nod and wide smirk.

"Yeah, well I'm making the most of it. In a few hours, my head will remain happily slap-free!" he snarked as he massaged the sore spot on his scalp. Chuckling, Kristoff awkwardly rose to his feet and ruffled Jack's newly brown locks, before planting a feather soft kiss on Anna's forehead as he passed.

"I'll be in the hangar, honey."

Anna snuck a quick return kiss on her boyfriend's cheek before he disappeared into the dark, and then turned her attention to her best friend as he reached up towards her. With a mischievous, suspicious twinkle in her eye, she grasped his forearm with her fire-free hand and firmly pulled him to his feet.

"What were you two  _really_  talking about?" she asked with a suspicious half smile, something that Jack dignified with a mere shrug as he bent down to pick up his bag.

"The meaning of life, universe and everything…which is forty-two, by the way." he answered breezily, the nonchalance easier to maintain with the relatively relaxed state that often came with her company.

"Fine, I'll get the answer from my boyfriend then." she groaned irritably as they began the walk towards the integrated island's doors that led to the lower decks, the soft orb of flame lighting their way.

"Probably better to get the question." Jack mused out loud, and then quietly cursed the slip of the tongue.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing…" he groaned, tired chuckles escaping his lips as she lightly pushed him in annoyed amusement.

"I  _will_  make you extra-crispy, you know." she threatened, a tone undone by the smirk on her freckled features.

"Then who will get you chocolate from the mainland?" Jack countered, his eyebrows rising in a  _'checkmate'_  expression. Anna narrowed her eyes and jutted out her jaw, unwilling to concede even a jovial defeat.

"Fine," she sighed, exasperation slowly transitioning into a sweet and playful tone as she dissipated the flames in her hand, "you may live, for now. Besides, you still haven't told me how much you're going to miss me."

"Like Kozmotis misses his sense of humour, my dear friend." he replied with mocking elegance, bowing theatrically as with a heavy, rusty creaking he opened the island's door and gestured for her to enter first.

It occurred to him that, in her presence, he was doing the best he could to treat the pseudo-shore leave, the trip into the heart of the enemy with all the facetiousness he could muster. As far as he was  _trying_  to be concerned, it was merely a case of a quick jaunt to one of the safe houses in New Burgess, where he could keep his eyes and ears open for anything out of the ordinary that the  _Star_  should be aware of, along with checking the other supply caches they hid over the years. Maybe even the occasional social visit to one of the dive bars in the Lower City. Hell, if the mood took him and he felt he could control his powers – a cheeky one-night stand.

The only problem with all of that, however, was that he would be alone. In any other situation with a finite time frame, he knew he would be okay with that – but with the 'mission' essentially being indefinite, he wasn't so sure. He could be alone for a long time. He knew it, and Anna knew it – which was why his heart began to ache and judging by the expression of suppressed consternation on her face when he occasionally caught her eye, hers was too.

"Where will you be?" she asked, occasionally glancing at him as they began to climb down the first of three sets of ladders that would take them to the hangar deck.

"A safe house in New Burgess. One of our sympathisers has been keeping it stocked with credits and stuff, so I should be okay. Hopefully he left a deck of cards too, 'cause I figure I'm gonna get bored quickly."

"Actually," Anna winced, wondering if he would take it the wrong way, "Neve and I talked about that."

"Oh?" Jack said as he raised an eyebrow, attempting to sound noncommittal while he followed her descent down the second set of ladders, the effort proving to be oddly tiring as evidenced by the slight breathlessness in his voice.

"Eugene went to see her after your meeting, looking for something to do. With…with the loss of his team he...oh man. Neve thinks he has survivor's guilt, so he's been trying to make himself useful, but he hates being cooped up here."

Jack remained silent as he listened to every word she said, the context of which didn't surprise him. Since their return, Eugene had spent a lot of time alone, skilfully avoiding Kristoff in the interest of peace, and generally wandering aimlessly around the ship looking for something to do. He could only wonder how miserable the last scout was feeling inside.

"The thing is: I worry about you, Jack. Even if you tell me not to, I still do. You're still my best friend, and I don't know what I would do if I lost you. When Kristoff told me what you volunteered to do, I was scared because you would be so far away, and I wouldn't be there to have your back."

"Anna…" he began, but when both of her feet landed on the metal floor of the second corridor, the slightly dim light failing to hide her expression of deep concern as she stared at the floor and held up a hand to silence him. She was on a roll, and as he stepped off the ladder and stood in front and re-adjusted the bag strap on his shoulders to mitigate the irate grumbles of his stitched wound, he wasn't about to interrupt.

"Let me finish, Jack. Even though our powers are opposite to each other, you helped me learn to accept them, taught me how to use them to the best of my ability, and were patient with me no matter how many times I accidentally set fire to the practice room. Hell, you were the first guy on the ship to see me naked, which Kristoff is still envious of, by the way."

Jack internally snickered at the memory, fighting hard to hide the blush of embarrassment. It was the first training session; Jack was a big fan of encouraging people to accept their new abilities before moving forward with the lessons. Therefore, when Anna closed her eyes and let her powers flow freely it had the unintended side effect of igniting her entire body and incinerating the blue jumpsuit she was wearing at the time. Her skin and hair was undamaged by the flames, but the fabric was totally burned away, and despite his best efforts Jack did not avert his gaze in time.

His repeated stammers in answer to her question  _"how am I doing?"_  had prompted her to open her eyes, and with a confused look she followed his red-faced, wide-eyed stare of stunned embarrassment and found out  _precisely_  why her skin could feel the air around her. Gasping and blushing fiercely, she hastily covered her private spots with her arms and yelled at him to  _"make yourself useful and go get me some clothes! Holy shit, this is humiliating!"_

Needless to say, the next session was incredibly  _awkward_ , until she managed to get revenge and snuck into his quarters to get a glimpse of him in the shower.

From that moment, their friendship was ignited and over the years, evolved into unbreakable companionship.

"Point is: I care about you, Jack. My place is on the ship, with Kristoff, playing teacher with all the guns and stuff, so I won't be there with you to back you up in case anything goes south…that's why Eugene is going with you. He needs the distraction, and you need someone to watch your six-"

She gesticulated at the general area of the stitches on his back to punctuate her point.

"-because you really suck at it."

Jack half smiled and muttered  _"c'mere, you"_  before pulling her into a friendly hug, rubbing her spine in reassurance. Anna was always the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, despite how fiercely she fought in combat, and it was probably for that reason he could feel the lightest of sobs into his shoulder.

"You could've just said that from the start, you know, saved yourself the speech." he muttered, squeezing her chest tightly.

"Yeah, well…shut up."

Jack chuckled as he pulled away from the embrace, giving himself the pleasure of flicking the right braid that had the streak of white hair entwined within. She sniffed and rolled her eyes at the playful gesture.

"Alright, I didn't want to say it because I'm supposed to be manly and all…but I  _am_  gonna miss you, firecracker." he muttered in defeat. It was true, however – of all the members of the Ghost team, it was Anna's absence that would notice most.

"Duh," she said, now with a bright lilt to her voice as she smirked, "of course you will. It's me!"

In a perfect trifecta, Jack rolled his eyes, shook his head in amused exasperation and gently pushed her right shoulder, and then moved around to the second ladder, Anna following suit.

"Come on. If we keep talking like this, I'm gonna start getting all emotional and write bad romance novels."

* * *

The journey down the final two ladders and the subsequent walk to the hangar deck went as slowly as it did before, but the fog of unsaid words and the pregnant silence had lifted. Now it was just a case of one friend accompanying the other before he went off on an impromptu trip. Along the way, Anna groaned several times about having to babysit people while they learned to use the stun-rifles to the best of their ability, and promised Jack that she would not let them anywhere near the archaic projectile rifles that they kept in the Ghosts' personal armoury, located just to the right of the pseudo-shooting range – which was basically six to eight crates upon which empty fuel cylinders were perched, situated at the furthest end of the ridiculously large hangar bay…the 'armoury' being a large, heavy black metal crate containing dozens of Third War rifles.

Just another case of making something sound better than it actually was.

When Jack re-adjusted the duffle bag over his shoulder for the fifth time and forced open the door to the hangar deck, he was greeted with the sight of six  _Hela-class_  drop-ships spaced irregularly around the cavernous bay, piles of empty crates here and there, and a circular black scorch mark in the dead centre of the room, created by Toothless whenever he settled down to sleep for the night. When Hiccup first joined the family, he tried futilely hard to clean off the charcoal stain whenever he could, but gave up after the first few days and put it into the one-of-those-things-category.

A third of the way along the hangar stood the remainder of the team, each passing the time differently. Kristoff was deep in conversation with a thoroughly bored-looking Kozmotis who was far more interested in his fingernails than anything his leader had to say, while Hiccup was busy play-fighting with Toothless – or rather, the chocolate-haired man was pinned under and suffering a relentless prodding courtesy of his scaly black friend, a wide gummy beam on the creature's face.

Toothless was the first to notice the arrival of Jack and Anna, and his face fell into an unimpressed glare as he relinquished his rider and stalked over to the now brown-haired man, his cat-like eyes narrowing with distrust. In turn, Jack's walk became an aggressive, confident swagger as his face cut a scowl, and all eyes watched the two supposed friends approach each other with growls and antagonism driving each step – even Kozmotis looked up from his fingernails in mild interest.

They stopped inches from each other, their eyes unwavering while Toothless sat on his hind legs, forcing Jack to crane his head up to meet the stern gaze. Uneasy silence gripped the hangar, glances darting between man and animal alike, and even Hiccup scrambled to his feet to try and dissuade the prospective fight that might occur. He disliked conflict, especially when it occurred between friends…except it never happened.

Quick as a flash, Toothless cracked a wide grin as his tongue shot out between his gums, and his head darted down to cover a squirming Jack with relentless, giddy licks. He tried his best to block the affectionate assault with his arms, groans and cackles escaping his pale lips as Toothless continued the attack.

"Oh, c'mon! You know that doesn't wash out!" Hiccup groaned loudly amid his own laughter, and that of his allies. The message received, Toothless ceased his assault and trotted back to his rider, who rested a friendly hand on his head. Chuckling, with his arms held out in front of him as one does when their clothes are soaked, Jack froze the saliva that drenched his entire upper body and shook off the resultant frost, creating the odd sight of a miniature instance of snowfall inside a hangar deck.

"Thanks for that." Jack muttered sarcastically, and then frowned in puzzlement as he noticed Hiccup's attire. "Why are you wearing your flight suit?"

"Toothless and I are gonna carry Eugene to the coast with you." Hiccup explained with a little condescension, as though the answer should be obvious. Jack merely shrugged off the tone.

"Awesome! Now I don't have to worry about flying with a guy in my arms for three hours!"

"I'm sure you're secretly disappointed. Eugene will probably be the closest you'll ever get to a woman in your arms." Kozmotis countered with his own inimitable brand of offensive snark and a teasing smirk, to boot.

"At least he'd have a pulse. With you, that sort of thing is negotiable." Jack retorted, earning  _"oh, snap!_ " from Hiccup and a guttural 'laugh' from Toothless.

"Ah, I shall miss our sessions of sarcasm." Kozmotis lamented, and for a second he actually looked dismayed.

"Don't worry; I'll save up all my best one-liners just for you. Anyway, where's my partner in crime?"

Metallic clanging from the door behind him provided the answer, and Jack turned to find Eugene walking purposefully and confidently towards them, clad in a black tunic, white smart shirt and black pants with combat boots – his arrival prompting Anna to instinctively move away from Jack and stand at her boyfriend's side.

"Well, if it isn't Captain Late-and-Effeminate." Kozmotis drawled, his attention returning to his nails.

"Oh, go sacrifice a virgin." Eugene retorted, to the tune of yet another  _"oh, snap!"_ and more deep, guttural chuckles. Kozmotis shot the scaly beast a glare, which was returned with a look of  _"try it, buddy, and I'll eat you"._

"Okay, that's enough of the witty banter, ladies." Anna groaned while she subconsciously draped an arm around Kristoff's back.

"Yeah, we should probably get going." Jack said, his eyes cautiously observing Eugene as he moved towards the open aircraft door to his right, and then paused when his eyes noticed something missing. "Where's your stuff?"

"What stuff? It's not like I had time to pack before coming here."

Eugene's acid remark that teetered dangerously close to a snarl made Jack instantly regret asking the question, especially as the biting words came with a thinly veiled split-second glare at Kristoff. The strawberry-blonde that stood protectively by his side stiffened noticeably, and frowned at the scout.

"Eugene-" she began, but he mercilessly cut her off, holding a passive-aggressive hand to stop her in her tracks, his eyes firmly on the hangar floor.

"Anna, don't. Okay? Just don't. It's only been three days, and I just need to…dammit. Until I stop seeing their faces every time I close my eyes, I will never be okay with it. I don't hate you, or Jack or anyone else on your team, and for some strange, ridiculous reason I don't hate Kristoff. That doesn't mean I'm not royally fucking pissed at him that I'm here sitting pretty while they're probably getting tortured, okay? I just wanna get this over with and get back to the mainland."

His eyes involuntarily glanced up at Toothless, who wore what looked like an expression of worry and hurt, and his gaze and voice softened instantly.

"I especially don't hate you, you big overgrown bat. Fist-bump?"

Toothless grinned and offered a clenched 'paw', and gently bumped it against Eugene's offered fist.

"If you even utter the sound 'balalalala', I will end you right here, right now." Kozmotis deadpanned. The scout's playful smirk, along with the almost audible yet nervous exhalation of relief from the Ghost leader seemed to defuse the vast majority of the tension in the cavernous deck, but still drove home the sensation that it was time to leave.

Toothless caught Hiccup's eye and, with an inclination of his almost feline head, gave his rider the silent go-ahead to hop onto the saddle while Eugene clambered up and sat behind him, and Jack reached his left hand over to his trusty bracer and unclipped his collapsed staff, the metallic  _shink_  of its extension signalling his readiness.

"Hey Jack? Watch your six, okay? Stay frosty." Anna implored. Jack chuckled as one hand deftly unearthed his iPod from his hooded sweater pocket, and as he slid the earphones into his ears and skilfully navigated the myriad menus to find a specific song by a long dead group called AC/DC, he gave her a cheeky wink and a self-confident smirk as he returned the device to its previous home.

"Always do."

Without another word, he sprinted out of the open hangar bay door and leapt into the night sky; followed seconds later by a proud roar as Toothless and his riders joined him in the enveloping dark, his intimidating, black wings creating one hell of a draught as he took off.

The three remaining Ghosts watched until they could no longer see their squadmates, and without a word Kozmotis turned on his heel and swept out of the hangar bay, seeing no reason to remain. Anna let out a deep, heavy sigh and rested her head upon Kristoff's right shoulder, her right arm wrapping itself around his while her left arm squeezed his abdomen. In acknowledgement of her affection, he twisted his head around and placed a tender and comforting kiss in her strawberry-blonde tresses, smiling as he heard her mutter a sweet  _'mmm'_  in appreciation.

"Think they'll be okay?" she asked, closing her eyes to enhance the sensations dwelling within the fond embrace.

"Jack's smart; I didn't make him my second for nothing. Eugene's a cunning bastard, they'll work well together. If they're quiet, and don't do something stupid like meet a Valkyrie in a bar or something, they'll be fine."

* * *

 _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _**03:02:02:29:13** _

* * *

 

* * *


	8. Beautiful Deception

" _Okay, you sure you wanna do this? I mean, we like everyone to be able to defend themselves, but some people don't like guns." Hiccup asked cautiously, his emerald eyes regarding Anna with a sort of concerned curiosity. She considered the question for a few seconds, but ultimately made her decision. If what everyone said was true about Unity's hate towards abnormals, the sooner she learned to defend herself outside of using her powers, the better._

" _Yeah." she announced, nodding as her eyes traced over the three stun-pistols and stun-rifles sat inertly on the table between them. She stood on one side, and Kristoff stood with Hiccup on the other, a peculiar but cute shade of red adorning his cheeks and ears._

" _Great. Okay. First we have-" he began, but was mercilessly cut off as a voice rang out over the ship-wide P.A. system. She recognised the voice as Neve's, and the announcement was a request for Hiccup to report to the engine room as power to the habitation level had been interrupted._

" _-and that's me for today. Kristoff can teach you what you need to know, but I need to go. You kids have fun!" he said brightly, and with a friendly clap on the his leader's left bicep and a none-too-subtle wink at Anna, the chocolate-haired man made a hasty exit amid quiet sniggers and a cheeky clearing of his throat._

_The two remained awkwardly silent for a brief moment, and it was clear that neither of them expected to be left alone, especially since a rumour reached her ears of the burly man developing a crush on her…started, of course, by Jack. If she had to be honest, she was kind of feeling the butterflies in her stomach too. Something about those eyes, or maybe it was the way he held her in the drop-ship, or those kind words he spoke. She wasn't really sure, but she was definitely aware of the slightly thudding heartbeat in her chest._

" _Okay," he startled her by loudly clearing his throat and forcing himself to speak, "the EP-4 anti-personnel stun pistol, standard issue sidearm for Unity armed forces and Inquisitors. If there's a glowing blue line on the barrel, that means a stun setting. Delivers a concentrated pulse of energy that causes instant paralysis and unconsciousness for five hours for a spine or head hit, two hours anywhere else. Red line indicates the kill setting – same principle but the energy pulse is stronger, and causes an overload of the body's nervous system, resulting in brain death, heart attack, or both. Basically: blue says 'goodnight', red says 'goodbye'."_

_He deftly picked up another pistol from the table, his movements indicating second-nature knowledge of the weapons in front of him, especially when in one fluid movement he pressed the safety button twice, prompting the power cell situated just under the barrel to pop out into his waiting left hand. Unlike hers, which radiated a lovely amber glow, his power cell was transparent and therefore empty._

" _The power cell holds enough for thirty stun and twenty kill shots. You press the safety button on the handle twice to eject the empty cell, and it automatically reloads when you put a new one in. I'm not going to explain the ER-4 stun rifle as it works exactly the same way, just with a longer range. So, ready to shoot?"_

_Anna took a moment to feel the weapon in her hands. It was surprisingly light and robust, and the dull shine to the metal indicated a sort of worn beauty that masked the deadliness inside. She sensed Kristoff's eyes upon her hands as she gazed upon the pistol, and after a brief moment of pensive thought she nodded. He lifted a stun-rifle from the table as he gestured towards the shooting range, and following his direction she walked to the white line painted a healthy distance from six empty fuel cylinders perched on crates._

" _Take your time. Squeeze, don't pull." he quietly spoke, with a voice of gentleness rather than impatience. Pushing down a sudden bout of performance anxiety, Anna felt her heart thunder in her chest as her right hand levelled the pistol at the cylinder, squeezed the trigger and fired six blue bolts towards her target, with only half hitting the mark._

" _Three out of six. Pretty good for your first time. With practice, you'll get a full house." he smiled, his impressed expression and tone causing the butterflies to buzz just that little bit more. She found herself blushing and smiling toothily in thanks, the compliment – such as it was – almost feeling like a resounding victory coming from him._

" _Can I…" she murmured, feeling her cheeks burn, "can I try the rifle?"_

_Kristoff cocked a half-smirk as he used two fingers that pinched the barrel to pass the rifle over and accepted the swapped pistol with his other hand, his thumb pressing the safety button to render it inert. Depriving herself of second thoughts, she instantly pressed the butt of the rifle against her shoulder and aligned the sight at the cylinders…and her breath hitched when she felt a pair of gentle hands on her jumpsuit-covered shoulders._

" _You're standing wrong for a first time shooter. Here…" he murmured, and she felt the butterflies race once more as with a delicate and careful touch, he re-adjusted the stock against her shoulder, slid her left hand a little further down the stock-grip, then with both hands on her waist he gently moved her body so her left side was facing the target, and finally stepped back with a satisfied 'hmm'._

_Needless to say, her subsequent accuracy was very poor despite his advice to squeeze the trigger at the end of her breath, to line the sight before firing and more importantly, to relax…but considering her mind was still on the pair of hands on her waist, she could be forgiven for missing every shot._

* * *

_Location: New Arendelle, Upper Level, Supreme Commander's office  
Date: August 25_ _th_ _2073_  
_Time: 14:05_

The weekly game of chess with his brother Henrik, the second eldest of the Larsen siblings, was a regularity that Hans was none too fond of. It wasn't that he disliked chess, nor the location in which the game was played – the Supreme Commander's office that was an oasis of opulent mahogany walls, polished oak furniture, leather chairs and original paintings of historical battles that occurred before the rise of Unity.

An island of decadence in a sea of uniformly grey skyscrapers, of monochrome clothing that existed in variations of black, white, or battleship grey – a reminder that those in power who impose the rules do not necessarily follow them. As he sat with one leg crossed over the other, his elbows resting upon the arms of the high-backed leather chair with his fingers laced together under his nose, emerald eyes scrutinizing the chessboard, he was acutely aware that his elder brother was one of those that enjoyed the perks of power behind closed doors.

It was an enjoyment that bred complacency and opportunism; two characteristics that his elder brother possessed since childhood. Opportunism shown by the secondment of the Valkyries to his control shortly after their first successes – however, some attacks were given the go-ahead under Hans' advisement – thereby gaining credit for the victories in the eyes of the Unifier and the rest of the military staff…and complacency signified by the misguided assumption that it was a status quo that would not be disturbed.

"Are you ready to play again, little brother?"

Hans' eyes flicked up from the board sat on a small, round wooden table between their identical chairs to his brother's hazel eyes, a genetic trait inherited from their father. He paused for a moment before forcing a smile, an effortlessly convincing expression.

"Of course. You will be white again, I assume?"

Henrik cocked a half smile as he leaned into the left arm of his chair, using both hands to lazily return the recently won game's pieces to their original starting positions. Hans knew his brother would take his time, so he took the opportunity to gaze out of the window to his left at the city streets, where hover-cars cut a slow and gentle swathe through the road that ran parallel to the Government Hall, and those fortunate enough to dwell in the upper level walked purposefully toward their destinations, wearing government-approved clothing for their careers.

It occurred to him then, as it always did during the weekly games, that the countries under Unity's control enjoyed stability like no other, and even with the tension between them and the Alliance, fifty years of peace was nothing to be sniffed at.

But in a damaged yet relatively calm world, what purpose was there for men like him and his elder brother? Sons raised under a patriarchal, almost military rule? Brought up in the belief that prestige and attention was only dependent on rank and military success?

A clearing of the throat diverted his musing attention from the impossibly clean city outside back to the chessboard, and with a silent note of contemptuous familiarity Hans observed that, wearing a slightly arrogant smile, his brother had made the first move, and predictably so. The white pawn in E2 had moved two spaces forward, as it always did. However, instead of allowing his brother to win by sabotaging his own strategy, Hans resolved to put an end to the years of one-sided victories and claim success for himself.

"So, how goes the hunt for the abnormal menace, as you so eloquently put?" Henrik asked curiously. Hans did not answer immediately; his studious gaze remained firmly upon the board as he planned every move from that point on.

"I have ordered the Valkyries to stand down for the time being." he answered matter-of-factly, prompting a frowning glare from his opponent.

"They are under my control, Hans. What reason would you have to subvert my authority in this matter?"

Hans internally smiled – an invisible expression of mischief and spite behind a mask of thought.

"It has been ten days since the battle at the depot, Henrik, and we have heard nothing. Our belief, shared by the leader of the Valkyries herself, is that the Ghost paramilitary group has been crippled by our systematic neutralization of their teams and sources. As it stands, they are blind and deaf, thus unable to act. Therefore until we are ready-"

He checked himself, something that his elder brother's partially narrow-eyed gaze signified that he did  _not_ miss.

"-until we find out where they are hidden, I gave the Valkyries some much-needed leave. They have not enjoyed a single day of vacation since their creation, and in light of their nigh-unstoppable victories ever since the first captures three years ago, I believe it is a rest well-deserved. Of course, you do have the power to revoke that leave." he finished, the last sentence provided to give his elder brother a happy illusion. Even while his gaze was elsewhere, Hans easily saw his elder brother shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Perhaps they do deserve some rest and relaxation. They have done well in the name of Unity, after all." he admitted, watching as Hans finally moved one of his pawns to block his advance.

"I thought you might agree. A happy soldier is a deadly soldier, after all."

Henrik uttered a quiet  _hmph_  in response as he moved his knight to F3, putting it in a position to take Hans' pawn and break his blockade. Evidently his pride was a little stung, but the point was unavoidable.

"What of the prototype? Is it still on schedule?"

Hans hid an internal smirk behind a studious mask once more; so far it was all going to plan, the game  _and_  the conversation.

"Unfortunately not," he muttered, creating a lilt of disappointment in his voice, "you see…a rather slippery glitch in the software system has halted all progress on the prototype, due to various safety issues that must be addressed before it can resume. The estimation is that we are two weeks behind schedule."

"Two…two weeks?" Henrik sputtered irritably, "I told…I mean…the Unifier was led to believe we were on schedule!"

This time, Hans did expose a half smile at his elder brother's disquieted reaction as he moved his black knight to C6. Provided he could keep Henrik off his game thus disrupting his predictions, that knight would prove to be an invaluable distraction.

"Relax, brother. The  _Chimera_  is the first of its kind, so it is to be expected that there would be bumps in the road. The engineers assured me that once the error has been resolved, the labourers will work around the clock to ensure completion in a timely manner. You will have your prize."

Hazel eyes locked with emerald and for a time, Hans wondered if the frown that danced upon the face of his eleven years senior was one of disbelief and suspicion. For someone who survived his upbringing using guile and deception rather than brute force and strength, to be suspected  _now_ would be exceptionally worrisome. Thankfully, Henrik accepted his calming advice and promptly moved his bishop to C4, one space away from Hans' knight.

"It makes sense. I must say, though, returning to the subject of the Valkyries…your creation of that particular program was a stroke of genius…"

_Indeed it was. Genius that you took credit for._

"…what are your thoughts on the team members themselves? I noticed you seemed fairly close to their leader."

Hans offered the lightest rise of his brow and an almost imperceptible nod of his head in acknowledgement as he moved the black knight to sit between Henrik's bishop and pawn.

"We're not close, per se. I am just someone she trusts. You see, Elsa Snowfield is driven by a pain that none of us should bear; in one night she lost her parents  _and_  her sister went missing, so in her mind she will always be alone. I merely provided her with the cause of her grief, and the tools with which she can achieve vengeance."

He leaned into the back of his leather chair and laced his fingers in a pyramid once more, his elbows resting on the seat's arms.

"Her isolated attitude naturally led to friction between her and the other three members of her team, especially as they befriended each other prior to her induction, but they are professional enough to not let that impede their role."

Henrik wasted no time in using his knight to take Hans' pawn, placing the piece on the table while he rested his jaw in the crook of his left thumb and forefinger, gazing questioningly at him.

"I wonder what we should do with them when the abnormal resistance has been eradicated, when their primary objective is complete." he mused, tapping his cheek lightly. It was obvious to the younger brother that he was fishing for advice as opposed to actual curiosity.

"I have a few ideas. Obviously, I would run them past you." Hans shrugged lightly and cryptically as he diagonally moved his queen to G5, beginning the middle phase of his plan.

"Of course. Now, shall we talk of other things?" Henrik asked, watching his brother's face for clues. To Hans, that was perfect – his elder brother's attention was no longer on the game and therefore any plans he may have had were moot.

"Good idea. I wanted to ask you a question; brother…given that I am, ah, out of the loop as far as governmental and foreign policy decisions are concerned, what is the current attitude towards the tension with the Alliance?"

Hans watched his brother's body language and reaction, receiving nothing but a complacent voice and a light shrug as he calmly moved his knight to take an unsuspecting black pawn on F7, safe from a counterattack from his younger brother's king due to the prior positioning of his bishop.

"The current stance is that we are to keep things as they are. The Unifier believes that our attention should primarily be focused on the construction of New Francisco, the eradication of the resistance and the continued arrest and incarceration of newly bloomed abnormals, and to a lesser degree the isolation and neutralization of the Reapers. Until such time that the Alliance gives us reason to think otherwise, the Unifier is reluctant to disrupt the peace we share, such as it is."

A sharp, quick exhalation of disapproving breath escaped through Hans' nose as he moved his queen to G2, claiming the white pawn in the process and putting him dangerously close to a check. His split-second scoff was not missed by his elder brother, who relaxed in his chair and fixed him with an interested gaze.

"You disagree, brother?" he enquired, curiously.

"I do."

"Please, speak your mind." Henrik persisted, gesturing for Hans to elaborate with one hand while the other moved his rook two spaces to F1, blocking Hans' potential check. It was a pointless move as no self-respecting chess player would risk their queen in such a way, but the movement of the rook served a purpose, and initiated the final phase of Hans' endgame.

"I do not think you want to hear my mind." the younger brother shook his head, knowing full well that Henrik would not let it drop, not out of curiosity or suspicion, but because he sought anything that he could use to his advantage.

"Yes. I do." Henrik said with finality edged in his tone, and as his eyes flicked down to the board with a 'caught out' expression, Hans conceded a sigh as began to explain.

"The peace we share with the Alliance? We are confusing it with 'quiet'. You see, they cannot defeat us with strength of arms alone, not without destroying the world in the process. So they trap us behind the agreed neutral zone and wait for our society to grow, and grow, until we reach the boundaries set  _for_  us but not  _by_ us, and collapse in on ourselves under the sheer weight. It is slow, it is silent, and it is insidious. Peace? Don't make me laugh, brother. This is merely another form of  _war."_

Almost as if to punctuate his statement, Hans moved his queen to E4, thereby claiming the pawn that started the game and lining the most important black piece on the board within sight of the white king. Technically it was a checkmate, but the game was not over yet.

The office was silent for a time, a slightly tense silence that sat heavily in the air. The 'accidental' slipping of his tirade could easily be considered by those who are quick to judgment as disloyal at best and seditious at worst. However, Hans gambled on the complacency and over-confidence of his elder brother, a man who held the office of Supreme Commander in a time of peace for so long; he had forgotten what war was. Hans had never truly seen it either, but he knew it was not the state of play in which Unity existed.

The nervous, but mildly mocking chuckles that escaped Henrik's lips told him all he needed to know; his calm rant was treated as nothing more than an immature tantrum, a silly joke that deserved no real attention.

"I see your taste for the grandiose has not dulled since you were a boy, Hans." the elder Larsen teased, moving his white bishop to block the black queen's murderous advance.

"Neither has your opportunism, brother. Of course, what reason would you have to change that? Your ability to capitalise on the success of others did make you Father's favourite, after all."

Hans subconsciously scratched the material of his grey army dress uniform's right sleeve, which concealed the standard-issue and mandatory wrist-communicator…and prayed that it was still recording the conversation onto its miniature data disc.

"Yes…well. We do what we must to get ahead in life…and besides, me taking your Valkyrie team has benefitted us all, has it not? I must thank you for that." he said sagely, his smirk showing not an ounce of remorse. Hans pursed his lips into a victorious smile as he tapped a specific area on his right sleeve, thereby ceasing the recording. He still wore the smile as he moved the forgotten black knight to F3, and watched as his brother's face twisted into an expression of confusion and dismay as he finally understood what happened.

The plan worked. By keeping his elder brother from paying his full attention on the game, Hans managed to trick him into surrounding his king with his bishop and rook, thereby trapping it behind a wall of his own making. The irony was that though the queen was historically deemed the most dangerous piece on the board, it was the  _knight_  that sealed the white king's fate.

"Checkmate."

* * *

 

 _Location: New Burgess, Upper Level, Snowfield House_  
_Date: Same Day_  
 _Time: 14:05_

Ninety days.

The military's policy on leave was two-and-a-half days of vacation per month of service, not counting weekends – which Elsa usually spent on base anyway – and given that neither she nor the rest of the Valkyries had used a day of their annual leave over the course of the past three years, those two-and-a-half days had accumulated to roughly ninety days of vacation, something that Hans Larsen practically had to  _order_  them to take.

Ninety days that she had no idea what to do with. Astrid, Rapunzel and Merida had all made mention of visiting their families, to try and catch up on anything they may have missed since the start of their service, with Astrid also rather strongly hinting that at some point she intended to visit one of the Lower City bars, get wasted on synthetic alcohol and 'get laid'. Elsa couldn't really fault her for that – though their attitudes clashed, and the brash Valkyrie often made no secret of her distrust towards her leader, deep down Elsa held a certain respect for her along with the rest of the team. They always seemed so…sure of themselves, so confident, like they knew exactly who they were and what they were doing.

In a way, Elsa wished she had that self-assured nature, as it might have prevented her prior nervous hesitation as she stood four feet away from the front door to Snowfield House half an hour ago. She had not seen that place for a long time, ever since she left to begin her training. She would not be feeling the catch in her breath or the dryness of her throat, mouth and lips, and she definitely wouldn't be considering turning back around and returning to the  _Staging Ground_  as she turned her key-card over and over between her slender, smooth fingers. Mild anxiety was a sensation she became used to over the years, but not like this.

It was almost as though the house – with its pure white front door, concrete-grey outer walls, tall windows whose panes were decorated with elegant white filigree – was judging her.

And as she sat cross-legged near the edge of her luxurious oak sleigh bed, in the room that she spent the vast majority of the years between her eighteenth and twenty-first birthdays, that she knew every nook and cranny of due to her parents' reluctant pseudo-imprisonment, she gazed achingly at the painting of a transparent castle of ice, the amber explosion of a morning sunrise permeating the wintry building and instilling it with a golden glow. The small silhouette of a woman on the castle's balcony, her arms spread wide as if to say  _'this is who I am. Whether you accept me or not, I will never change'_. The painting which gave her hope, in the days that she could not leave her room, that she would eventually be able to accept herself.

She swallowed thickly, blinking a few times as her fingers gripped the pillow she held protectively across her chest, and breathed quietly as she recalled the emotions she felt when she forced herself to walk through the front door not half an hour ago, having consumed another pill to calm herself.

Emptiness. The house felt completely and utterly void of life. Not a single item had been moved since her departure to the  _Staging Ground_  three years ago, and with no reason to expect otherwise she believed it would simply be a case of picking up where she left off. Except…there was nothing. No laughter from Anna as she amused herself doing who-knows-what around the house, having given up on coaxing her elder sister from her room. No conversations about anything and everything. None of the usual sounds and noise one would expect from a family home…just deathly silence.

It was  _that_ , that hit her the hardest…because instead of returning to the home she grew up in, she stepped into what she felt was someone else's house, that she sat in the room of the old Elsa Snowfield, and this woman that occupied her bed, that gazed at the painting was a deadly, angry, violent mockery of that kind, selfless, confused and scared woman. The house may have been perceived as though it had changed, but in reality it was still the same building…whereas the Elsa Snowfield that arrived half an hour ago was not the same person at all.

She was a soldier, now. Trained and conditioned to compartmentalise in order to function, and it was that which helped her to force the emptiness of the house, the unearthly silence that clawed at her soul into the back of her mind. She had ninety days to spend in the house that she no longer felt a part of, that she was essentially  _visiting_ …she might as well make the most of them.

Thumbing a miniscule tear away from her left eye, she tossed the pillow which had been so tightly gripped with knuckles of white at the headboard, out of her sight and mind, and closed the ache inside a box within her heart. An impassive expression descended upon her features as she swung her grey pants-covered legs over the edge of the bed, rose and swiftly strode out of the door, not allowing herself a second thought.

Before she knew it, she found herself in the cavernous living room, lit only by the daylight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows directly opposite the Uni-Com interface, the obsidian black desk that stood as both a reminder of a decision long ago and a the means to fulfil a promise made to a long-passed family. Hopefully its years of inactivity had not made it sluggish.

"Uni-Com, activate." she directed her words at the interface, an unmistakeable crack in her voice. The interface began to gently hum and  _whirr_  in response and, heralded by an expectedly lethargic sequence of beeps a translucent rectangle of holographic blue light shimmered into existence, bisected by a single line, which flickered and pulsed with every single syllable and inflection as it spoke to her with its artificial yet feminine tones.

" _Welcome home, Miss Snowfield. You have one hundred and six unread messages and seventy two missed calls. Would you like to access them?"_

Elsa's breath hitched a little in her throat. Undoubtedly those messages and calls were ones of sympathy and condolences in the wake of her parents' deaths, long ignored as she departed for training merely a few days after the incident. She was not ready for them yet.

"No. I would like you to run a program."

" _Certainly."_

Her fingers slipped into the pocket of her pants and pulled out a thin data cylinder, and after indulging herself with a few seconds of turning it between her finger and thumb as she eyed it almost apprehensively, she leaned towards the interface and slid it into a waiting receptacle to the left of the screen. Created by one of the intelligence analysts, a repayment of a debt incurred when she intervened in an instance of bullying, it essentially allowed to take her work home.

" _Program requires Level Four clearance. Authorisation code required."_ the line pulsed, the translucent blue now a deep red in recognition of the impediment to its primary function.

"Snowfield, Elsa. Valkyrie Leader. Authorisation code two-six-six-two-echo-alpha-lima." she spoke, firmly and flatly. Its requirement satisfied, the interface's red glow reverted to blue, and the words  _Waiting…_  appeared just under the line.

" _Authorisation code accepted. Command?"_

Elsa took a small, galvanizing inhalation of air through her nose and with one arm across her ribs to support the elbow of her left arm, her hand thoughtfully hovering in the air, she unleashed a volley of instructions.

"Run facial recognition. Parameters are; male, white hair, messy. Brown eyes, mid-twenties, athletic build. Concentrate on the three main cities, both levels. Also, run the same program concurrently, new parameters; female, strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, petite build. Cross-reference with Unity population database."

" _Parameters accepted,"_ the line pulsed once more as text acknowledgements of her orders appeared on the right of the screen,  _"estimated time to completion of first sweep…twelve hours."_

Half a day of waiting, that would be interesting. Still, there was nothing she could do about it.

"Forward any hits to my wrist communicator." she commanded.

" _Certainly. Will there be anything else?"_

As her eyes involuntarily looked upwards in thought, as her mind scanned itself for anything else that could be useful and would require the use of the Uni-Com, she briefly entertained the notion that ninety days in the empty family home might not be so bad. Maybe she could survive the absence and the void, as the days ticked down to her return to the  _Staging Ground_.

"I don't think-"

But as her eyes fell upon a photograph where the occupants inside the image moved in an endless loop of joy, medium sized with an obsidian black frame that was magnetically adhered to the wall behind and above the Uni-Com screen, she knew that it was a fallacy. The burgeoning heartache, moistening eyes and the parted lips that told her the memories and the emotions would not easily be suppressed and to do so would be ultimately futile…and before she knew it, they ruled her next commands.

"Uni-Com, scan the photograph located to the rear of the screen." she spoke, her voice coming out as little more than a croaky murmur as the tide of grief began to swell. A blue light beamed into existence at the rear of the table-like interface, its width mimicking the photograph to the nanometre as it reached its desired target.

" _Scanning…"_

The horizontal beam of light slowly moved up and down the photograph as the occupants inside exchanged brief, happy words before posing, and three seconds later the 'playback' would start all over again.

" _Scan complete."_ the line pulsed three times, and Elsa had to try and force away the growing lump in her throat.

"Create a three-dimensional holographic image. Life-size, with colour. Utilise the final frame of the video loop."

" _Working…"_

Another light blinked online, creating a blue laser that swept from left to right over and over again with alarming speed as soon as it reached the grey-tiled floor. She numbly stepped over to the small metal square on the nearby wall upon which a single button was situated, and when she pressed that button the long, heavy black curtains drew themselves over the natural daylight, bathing the room in darkness.

She needed to do that, to eradicate all other forms of light in the room because, with surprising speed the blue laser had built a holographic image of four people, literally from the ground up. It had begun with the feet, the colour of the beam rapidly alternating to match each detail, no matter how miniscule. Translucent, yet happy, the figures stood there right in her living room in all their glory. She barely noticed when the Uni-Com flatly announced  _"Task complete"_ , in fact she was oblivious to all else that  _didn't_  move in the room…

…as while a solitary tear slid from her right eye, she came face to face with the holographic figures that the suppressed grief, the emotions that were awakened as soon as she stepped through the front door compelled her to create.

Exuding a faint blue glow as they stood in the darkened living room, their faces radiating nothing but happiness and warmth, familial love and joy, their smiles doing more to illuminate the room than any light source that mankind had ever created or  _would_  ever create, Agdar, Idun, Anna and a mirror of Elsa Snowfield gazed right back at her.

Unmoving, hollow, frozen in time…but  _there_.

"Papa…Mama…Anna," she whispered in a croaky voice, a weak smile adorning her lips as the tears began to flow freely down her reddening cheeks, "…I miss you all…so, so much."

Her eyes then fell upon her mirror image, a beaming, joyful Elsa Snowfield that was far removed from the flesh-and-blood woman that gazed upon its artificial form, a relaxed platinum blonde braid that sat proudly on her left shoulder, wearing an elegant ice-blue dress that split at the right knee. She remembered the point in time in which the photograph was taken – the ball that was held in Elsa's honour upon her graduation from New Arendelle High School. The time when they were all smartly dressed – Agdar wearing a military uniform that had creases sharp enough to draw blood, Idun wearing a purple and black dress with one-inch shoulder straps, crocus motifs and filigree adorning the skirt, and her younger sister wearing an apple-green cap-sleeved dress with similar designs to her mother's.

Elsa swallowed the lump in her throat and took a ragged, hitching breath as she lifted her left hand and made a gentle pushing motion against her benevolent mirror image, causing the holographic image to obediently dissolve into the air, an echo of a past life that no longer held sway.

She returned her moistened gaze to her parents, and reached out the same hand to gently caress her father's cheek, to attempt to touch the beaming face before her. A curling of her lips that danced the fine line between a sobbing grimace and a relieved smile adorned her tear-stained features as her fingers felt nothing but air and cold, nothing but a trick of the light and technology.

But it didn't matter to her that they were merely shades of the past because for one moment, one happy, beautiful moment…

Elsa Snowfield was with her family once more.

* * *

 _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _**02:26:09:55:05** _

* * *

 


	9. Ships in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a few people (some rather emphatic reviewers which is, quite frankly, awesome) enquire as to the possibility of putting in a character from The Secret of Kells (which I have not seen), namely Aisling.
> 
> Now, as it stands with the current planning of OGaV, everything is pretty much sorted character wise.
> 
> ...but...
> 
> ...there is a strong likelihood of a sequel, and you might just see Aisling in it. For now though, I hope it does not disappoint too much, and hope you continue reading regardless.

_Location: New Burgess  
Date: August 29_ _th_ _2073_  
_Time: 16:45_

Jack didn't like it one bit.

Sure, he volunteered for the assignment to hang out in Unity territory, to reside in New Burgess for an indefinite amount of time, but he couldn't escape the niggling feeling that he bit off more than he could chew.

For one, residing on the  _Guardian Star_  meant that he could essentially be himself. He could freeze the moisture in the air to whip up snowballs and snowflakes just because he felt like it, and no-one would bat an eye. Hell, it was  _entertainment_  to the children, and having the snowballs float around and promptly dive-bomb him made great practice for both his agile dodging skills and his ability to take on more than one target at once, should the need arise.

However, were he to do it in one of the dozen obsidian black, circular elevators attached to the colossal west column that connected the two levels of New Burgess, it would most likely mean his capture and death. It was that knowledge…that inescapable truth that gave him a good bite of nervousness, of mild suspicion and paranoia as he and Eugene stood among a few other occupants of the west-most elevator. His jaw tensed as he glanced at the backs of the heads in front of him, a varying range of hair colour from browns to blacks, blondes to greys, and wondered if any of them suspected anything.

By rights, he didn't need to worry. Clad in a grey three-quarter length fitted military-style pea-coat, with a mandarin collar that buttoned downwards from his left shoulder and matching grey pants, he looked exactly the same as all the other men on the lift, save for the ones like Eugene who elected for black rather than grey. Provided he didn't draw attention to himself, there was no reason he would be discovered.

It didn't stop the niggling feeling, though.

He felt a sharp elbow in his ribs, and with a barely suppressed hiss of pain he shot a glare at his comrade, who returned it with an equally pointed and urgent glower of his own. Mouthing the words  _"what the fuck?"_ he was promptly enlightened as to the reason for the abrupt violence. Eugene nodded his head rather emphatically towards a middle-aged man stood with his back to them, clad in exactly the same clothing. As Jack followed his friend's hurried nods, he noticed that the trembles that only meant one thing…the man was shivering. He realised that while wrapped up in his thoughts, his anxiety had expressed itself by subconsciously lowering the temperature within the elevator…and given that it was late August, a chilly air was suspiciously out of place.

Jack closed his eyes and focused, mentally compartmentalising his anxiety and calming the light buzzing in his body. They had only been here for two weeks, and the last thing either of them needed was to be arrested so soon after receiving instructions from their source to meet him due to an inconvenient bout of power-incontinence.

Mercifully, it wasn't long before the combined body heat of the elevator's occupants – sans Jack, of course – restored the temperature to its norm, and it took a remarkably short amount of time for the cramped pod to ascend the remainder of the four hundred and fifty metres to the upper level's support structure. Eugene folded his arms and exhaled deeply as he stared at a fixed point in the ceiling, his left foot tapping out the rhythm of impatience and edginess while the elevator slowed its ascent, and with a dull  _bing_  the doors lazily slid apart.

Jack's teeth ground together in simmering agitation as the rest of elevator's occupants filed out of the door, their movements oddly mechanical and emotionless, and as the last of them exited through the open doors Eugene almost bolted out, followed closely by Jack as he tugged at his sleeve to ensure his bracer was concealed, and without a word they strode far away from the support column's tip, well out of earshot of random passers-by toward a pair of armed guards that stood like trench-coat wearing sentinels, toting stun-pistols as they checked each passenger that left the elevators. He kept his head slightly bowed and to the right to avoid the security holo-cameras – Ghosts always wore masks when on missions, but it was a useful habit to possess nonetheless.

"Identification, please." the first guard ordered, his voice partially distorted by the microphones in his shiny black helmet. Obediently, Jack slipped his fingers into the right pocket of his pants to produce his I.D. card, while Eugene did the same for the other.

Tension ruled the air while the guard glanced three or four times between the card in his gloved hand and Jack's face, and once he was satisfied that the likeness was the same, a blue light on the small protruding lump at the side of his helmet blinked into existence, shining a beam that scanned the Unity symbol on the lower left of the card.

"Hmph," the guard grunted, "Lower City civilians. Okay, you're free to go. Remember, as inhabitants of that level you are restricted to the entertainment district, the museum and the central fountain. Trespassing in the Government District or any other area is forbidden, and is punishable by imprisonment. Unity be with you."

"…and also with you." Jack muttered, desperately attempting to hide the terseness in his voice and resisting the urge to throat-jab the rude guard as he passed by and strode off towards the nearby hover-tram stop, with Eugene in hot pursuit

"Man, am I glad to be out of that sardine-can. Your body odour was overwhelming my nose." Eugene exhaled breathlessly, upon catching up with his once-white-now-brown haired partner, chancing a smirk at his verbal jab.

"I'm sorry," Jack deadpanned without even turning his head, "I couldn't smell anything over your ladies perfume."

"Hey! That stuff smells great, and is probably the only good thing to come out of this godforsaken society!" Eugene hissed, and his partner couldn't work out whether it was indignant or humorous.

"It's still ladies perfume." Jack snickered, nudging him as they closed to within a few metres of the tram stop.

"Whatever. You couldn't tell a great scent if it came and…whacked you…in the…nose…" Eugene attempted to retort, but trailed off as his brain metaphorically shrugged.

"Lose track of that sentence there, Mr Zach Laevai?"

"Shut up," Eugene snapped, "anyway, where are we meeting The Butler?"

To answer, Jack reached into the outer pocket of his coat and produced two dull metal discs in the palm of his hand, each about two inches in diameter. Inscribed in the centre were the letters M and U entwined with each other, along with ADMIT ONE etched in a circle around them.

"Found these under the information stand outside our apartment complex, along with five sticks. The Butler wants to meet us in the United Museum at five."

Eugene took one of the discs from Jack and tossed it into the air with light-hearted abandon, as one would do when flipping a coin. As the disc reached the apex of its impromptu flight however, his eyes locked onto a tall, well-cleaned apartment block on the other side of the road, and his expression swiftly dropped from a half-smile to a fire-inciting scowl, combining with the instant tensing of his entire upper body. Noticing the sudden change in his partner's demeanour, with a curious frown Jack followed the hard gaze…and within a few seconds, his own façade was of deep ire.

Projected onto the blank, concrete grey wall of the apartment, as though the surface itself was the canvas on which they were painted, stood the four Valkyries in full tactical gear, two in front and the other two just behind. The black masks, the sinister-looking rectangular goggle visors, the leather hoods…all at odds with the text that floated halfway down their bodies:

 _THE VALKYRIES_  
_PROTECTING OUR GLORIOUS SOCIETY_  
 _UNITY IN THOUGHT, UNITY IN DEED_

Jack's throat let loose a low growl when his eyes focused on the one with the sword held vertically down her body, and the still-healing slash on his upper back seemed to sting all the more painfully when the memory of that night flashed across his mind. An advancing figure in a backdrop of flame, a blade glinting in the amber light…the distorted laughter.

" _Let's see what you look like…"_

"Jack? Dude? Anyone in there?"

The next thing he felt was another sharp nudge, in the right arm this time. Blinking as the world slowly came back to him, he glanced with fuzzy disorientation at Eugene who wore his second expression of anxious urgency in the space of thirty minutes.

"Huh?" Jack murmured faintly, wondering what the hell just happened, "what…what's going on?"

"Um, three things. One, you just spaced out there. Two, it's getting chilly…again. Three, the tram arrived." Eugene explained, jerking a thumb towards the newly-arrived, double-carriage hover-tram. Jack closed his eyes and exhaled deeply through his nose in irritation at how easily he was getting spooked – visiting the main cities never used to cause so much uncertainty to dwell within his heart. As he mentally calmed his agitated gifts and pulled himself onto the tram bound for the Entertainment District, he couldn't escape a particular thought from dancing its sinister steps across his mind.

This intel-gathering mission was proving to be harder than he thought.

* * *

The holding of the lower part of a press-up was Elsa's favourite position in her personal exercise regime for a number of reasons. For one, it tested and strengthened nearly all her body's muscles in equal measure, an efficient position that boasted a low movement, high reward ratio. For another, it taught patience and the testing of her limits, to see precisely how long she could keep in that position. Two seconds became four, ten became twenty, and over the course of her tenure in the armed forces she could hold the position for a good three minutes.

Of course, it was an exhausting thing to undergo, but worth it nonetheless.

Her exercise regime wasn't the only thing she brought home from the  _Staging Ground_. On her first night, she found drifting off to sleep to be incredibly difficult, in that she was used to the firm, uncompromising beds in the Valkyrie Quarter. The act of attempting to sleep in her room proved to be ironically uncomfortable despite the contrastingly soft and luxurious mattress and the fact that her room held so many memories that she would rather  _not_  revisit caused her to toss and turn under her duvet countless times during the night, her body and mind unwilling to give her a moment's peace. When the sky outside began to lighten in preparation for the sun's daily ascent, she gave up attempting to sleep in her childhood bed and instead chose to use the living room floor as her mattress, a spare bedsheet as her blanket and a tough couch cushion as her pillow.

As she approached two minutes and fifteen seconds while holding that position, while the clock on the Uni-Com screen approached four forty-five, she reasoned it as a habit she could live with, because at least she would get some sleep at night. She also wondered if she would break her personal record of four minutes, but the soft beep of the Uni-Com interface that reached her ears told her that it was not to be.

Her muscles signalled their displeasure at her exercise with sharp aches all over her body, and with a sharp exhalation of breath she pushed herself onto her feet and leaned over to retrieve a towel from the nearby couch, and then sauntered over to stand in front of the screen that patiently summoned her attention.

"Uni-com, exit standby mode." she spoke with the breathlessness of post-exercise fatigue, mopping away the sweat from her face and neck.

" _Good evening, Miss Snowfield,"_  the line pulsed with its customary perfunctory tones, _"a possible match has been found using the facial recognition program and population database."_

"Define 'possible'."

" _Match probability – forty percent."_

"Show me." Elsa ordered as she wiped down her arms and the only part of her chest exposed by the exercise top she wore, watching as a tiny image appeared in the top left and stretched down to occupy one half of the screen, with information and dates constituting the other half. The image was of a young boy, possibly around fifteen years old with messy chocolate hair, brown eyes that paradoxically exuded both mischief and responsibility, and a face that was chiselled yet gaunt. The text that accompanied the picture read:

 _JACKSON OVERLAND  
BORN: DECEMBER 5_ _th_ _2049  
DIED: JANUARY 14_ _th_ _2064_  
_CAUSE OF DEATH: DROWNING, POSSIBLE HYPOTHERMIA_  
 _FAMILY: EMMA OVERLAND (SISTER), SARAH OVERLAND (MOTHER)_  
 _LOCATION: SETTLEMENT DISTRICT FOUR, ZONE SIXTEEN_

"Show me the facial match." Elsa commanded, and watched as the text floated away only to be replaced by someone dressed in Upper Level clothing, his head turned away from the camera as he stood in front of an elevator guard, so all that could be seen was his chocolate brown hair and part of his jaw.

" _This_  is the match?" Elsa asked with annoyed incredulity, a single eyebrow raised to further reinforce how unimpressed she was.

" _The probability of a match_ was _forty percent."_  the Uni-Com answered, and even its usually perfunctory tones sounded borderline condescending in its reminder.

Elsa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation, suppressing the burning desire to berate the interface. Sure, she knew it would probably make her feel better, but the act of verbally venting her irritation upon an inanimate object that supported a moderately potent A.I. would be pointless.

"Resume the sweep. I'm going to have a shower and then…I don't know…read a tablet-book or something." she groaned exasperatedly, her arms flying up and flopping back down to her legs with a light  _whap_  to signify how the task was beginning to feel like an exercise in repeatedly applying one's forehead to a brick wall. She previously made a few video-calls to people who might be able to assist with her search for Jack Frost, from Hans to the Stabbington Brothers, co-heads of the government's security contingent. Hell, even High Inquisitor Gothel received a message from the young Valkyrie…and none of those attempts at contact were ever reciprocated.

None, except one.

" _Certainly. Would you like to receive the incoming call from Inquisitor Jafar now, or after your shower?"_

Elsa's eyes widened, both in shock at someone  _actually_  returning her contact and that the Uni-Com seemed so breezily offhand in its mention of it.

"No! No, put him through!" she nearly shouted, making sure that the Uni-Com acknowledged her order.

Within seconds, the twin windows containing information on Jackson Overland minimized themselves to the bottom right of the screen, and in their place shimmered into existence a long, thin, angular face with swarthy skin and black slicked back hair. His brown eyes, black moustache and goatee were so sharp they could cut diamond, and his expression was one of ill-disguised superiority.

" _Valkyrie Leader Snowfield. What a pleasure it is to receive your incessant communications to the High Inquisitor's office."_ he spoke with a smooth drawl, giving her the distinct impression that he was a cobra judging whether his prey was worthy enough for his attention – especially in the way his eyes consumed the flyaway hairs and remaining sweat left by her exercise. She raised an eyebrow in an indiscernible manner, rising to the verbal challenge that was Inquisitor Jafar's thinly veiled contempt.

"Inquisitor Jafar. Forgive me, I was expecting a reply from your superior." she spoke calmly, but with bite. Enough to take that holier-than-thou expression down a peg or two, especially when the quickest of scowls crossed his expression.

" _You contacted her, you have me. Now, I have a great many things that demand my attention, so please make it brief."_

Elsa lifted her chin an inch, unwilling to yield ground in this battle and appear weak in front of him.

"I was curious as to whether the Inquisitors have successfully obtained information regarding the abnormals, insofar as it pertains to my squad's ongoing mission?"

Jafar's brow raised half a centimetre at the same time as his eyes narrowed just that little bit, and Elsa could easily tell he was intrigued by her question. As she watched his jaw jut out in calculative thought, an obvious sign of the cogs turning in his mind, she knew she had won this particular battle – short as it was.

" _Very well,"_ he declared,  _"I may have what you seek. However, I suggest that we meet; you and I both know that classified information is not to be discussed on such an unsecured communications line."_

Elsa blinked, unsure of how to respond. Jafar had a point, that much was clear…but a meeting was something else entirely. Still, apparently he possessed answers.

"When and where?" she asked, causing a half-smile to appear on the Inquisitor's face that she wasn't sure she liked.

" _Let me see,"_ he sighed, eyeing something to the right that was most likely a data tablet,  _"five thirty at the United Museum? I will be in the east wing. Do not be late."_

"I thought you had 'a great many things that demanded your attention', Inquisitor?" she said, her voice dangerously close to a sarcastic tease. Jafar's eyes flicked back to hers with an expression that looked dangerously like contempt.

" _Only when Valkyries are concerned. Five thirty. If you are not punctual, I will not be there."_

Without another word, he raised his right hand and swiped across the screen, ending the call with impatience equal to his voice. Shaking her head, Elsa checked the time on her thin wrist communicator, and noted that the meeting was forty-five minutes away.

Enough time to shower, get dressed, and pray she wouldn't be arrested for assaulting an Inquisitor out of anger.

* * *

_Time: 17:05_

"I thought butlers were supposed to be punctual?" Eugene observed with a hint of snark, thoroughly bored by the painting of New Arendelle's construction. As though the artist was ten miles away, it depicted the upper level being built over the standing city, with little dots symbolising the worker drones and human figures going about their endless and thankless task. Jack wondered how much of the city was built by depowered abnormal labour, while the tiny speakers on either side spouted information at him.

_Built in 2025, New Arendelle was the first city of its kind to utilise the lightweight yet incredibly strong properties of hardened unidium, creating a stable and eternal structure that would stand the test of time. New Arendelle became a beacon of civilisation, a testament to science's ability to assist in the pursuit of a better life for Unity's citizens._

"It could be just a name, you know, like that 'hero' Uni-Man or whatever." Jack shrugged, though his impatience was coming through in the way he tapped the thin box of chocolate bars in his hand.

"…or he could be an actual butler?"

Jack elbowed his friend in the side, eliciting sniggers that easily took the edge off the situation. So far, despite the museum being moderately populated, he was finding it a little easier to control his suspicion. Bored of the painting, the two men moved over to the top-left corner of the pure white room, separated by a free wall upon which hung a painting of the Unifier in full military garb, one hand cradling Unity's citizens while the other crushed its enemies. Alliance, abnormal, it wasn't clear who the enemies were…just that there was blood seeping between his clenched fingers.

A chunk of metal, supported by a plastic pedestal and surrounded by an alarmed glass sphere greeted them, its shiny obsidian black colour radiating both strength and uncertainty, and a glass tablet was attached to the pedestal's main body, with information lazily scrolling up the screen.

_UNIDIUM_

_Considered to be the greatest scientific discovery in the history of mankind, Unidium's origin is considered to be somewhat of a mystery. What can be proven is that, at the same time as the rise of the abnormal threat during the 2017-2022 Third World War a new substance was discovered that, when combined with tungsten and hardened, created an alloy with three times the strength of titanium and half of the weight._

_The Unity Party was the first to lead experiments into its usefulness, and it found that the gifts Unidium possessed were not limited to structural integrity. When bombarded by charged particles in a particle accelerator, pure unidium became a safe and sustainable power source, with an output rivalling that of archaic nuclear stations but with none of the dangerous drawbacks. Converting matter into energy, unidium is safe, clean, and the crown jewel in the collection of gifts that Unity provides to its citizens._

"…shyeah…" Jack muttered under his breath, "that's about the only thing that every citizen has in this godforsaken regime."

"Not true."

The voice that appeared behind them sent a chill up Jack's spine, and slowly he and Eugene turned to find a portly man stood between and just behind them, similarly dressed with a balding head and large, slightly bulbous nose.

"Excuse me?" Eugene asked, eyeing the new arrival with a wary expression. The man stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the chunk of metal with ambivalence. Jack's left hand slowly moved to his bracer, tensing his body in preparation for a quick getaway. Considering the rather stringent laws on anti-regime behaviour, what he had been caught uttering could land him in a whole lot of trouble.

"I said it's not true," the man repeated, but dropped his voice to a whisper as he leaned forward, "Unity has also provided food replication stations on both levels…though I do find the turkey sandwiches to be a little bland. Do you?"

Eugene shot Jack a peturbed look, which was returned with an amused smirk. In his consternation, he had forgotten that it was essentially a code.

"I prefer bacon."

The man's lips twitched in something that could be defined as the ghost of a smile, and nodded once in acknowledgement.

"As well you should. Come, we should visit the Alliance exhibit in the east wing. It is rarely populated at this time."

The man swept off to the right without another word, leaving Eugene to frown after him in confusion as they followed a few metres behind. As they passed under the white arch that led to the exhibit, Eugene leaned over to mutter so only Jack could hear.

"What was all that about?"

"Kris told me that The Butler's code phrases all involve turkey sandwiches. If someone was to reply 'yes' or 'no', he would walk away and that would be it…but if you give him an alternative like, say, bacon? He knows you're on the level as the replicators can never get bacon right, so no-one requests it."

"Huh," Eugene muttered, finding it a little odd, "when I was in New Corona, it was always 'out of the frying pan…' and then '…into the fire'."

"What  _is_  it with you and frying pans?" Jack teased, shooting him an amused look as they approached the back of their source, who was staring at a model representation of an Alliance  _Shrike-class_  gunship. Painted gold and designed with birds in mind, it featured elegantly curved wings that arched around to point forward, with the fuselage beginning in the centre of both wings and curving downwards to resemble a sharp 'beak'.

"Shut up! You would've been skewered if it wasn't for me and Agatha." Eugene retorted with a sardonic smirk – and Jack decided not to question why Eugene's pan was named like that. As they drew up on either side of The Butler, he silently – and a little rudely – stepped back and moved over to the top right of the room, choosing instead to admire an artist's painting of a burning New Arendelle, with flames that reached so high that they kissed the heavens, while  _Shrike-class_ gunships swooped down to rain death and destruction upon its citizens.

Eugene raised a single eyebrow, mildly offended at the brusque manner in which they were left, but the mouthing of 'camera' and the rather pointed gesture of Jack's eyes at the recording device perched on the top of the free wall behind them clarified everything – where The Butler stood was the best place to talk and not be clearly observed. The two abnormals moved over to stand at the right of the painting; enough of a distance away from their source to avoid attracting suspicion whilst clearly hearing what he had to say.

"I thought Ghosts were supposed to be silent."

"We are." Jack quietly growled back, a little annoyed at the acerbic comment. The Butler raised his eyebrows once in a way that screamed  _'yeah, right'._

"Your noisy antics at the depot say otherwise."

"It was a trap," Eugene hissed through gritted teeth, "they knew we were coming."

"Of course they did," The Butler reprimanded, "it was no more a trap than it was a logical and tactical conclusion. Unity knows you are desperate, in that you have lost your eyes and ears, so they gave you some tempting bait – which you so predictably took – and as a result of your hubris, three members of your scout team are dead and the only one still alive is due to be transferred to an internment camp."

Jack shot a look at Eugene, and watched as his friend's face paled to near white as his breath stalled, trying desperately to focus on the painting while the news continued to assault his heart and soul. He had no idea what was going through the scout's mind, but guessed it was horror and more than a little anger. Whether it was at Kristoff or Unity, he didn't know…and wasn't about to ask any time soon.

"I apologise, that was far blunter than I intended." The Butler attempted as he chanced a glance at Jack and promptly looked away upon noticing the fiery scowl upon the Ghost's features.

"No  _shit."_  Jack hissed in defence of Eugene, who was still processing the news with trembling hands.

"C-can…can we do anything…for him?" Eugene spoke faintly and weakly, barely responding to the supporting hand that Jack placed on his shoulder.

"I…I am afraid not. The three died during the Inquisitorial interrogation, as for the fourth… I hear he antagonised his captor quite admirably by consistently providing him with cooking recipes as opposed to actual information."

"That's my Sneak," Eugene almost smiled, as a solitary tear slid from his right eye and curved off at his lips, "did they…"

"I am sorry. They broke him a few days ago, and as a result his mind has been shattered."

That was the point that Eugene couldn't take any more. With a muttered 'excuse me' and a barely restrained walk, he turned away from the painting and left Jack and The Butler alone.

"How do you know all this?" Jack asked as he kept his eyes on the painting.

"As a butler to Supreme Commander Larsen, I overhear things." he quietly explained, and Jack allowed himself the twitch of a half-smile as he heard Eugene's voice in his head saying  _'told you so'._  The smile swiftly dropped to a despondent frown as his stomach began to churn for his friend, knowing that not only was he the only one from that team to be free, three of them were dead and the other had gone insane under the likely inhuman treatment.

"Do you know if they-" he began, but the words froze in his throat as he felt an oddly familiar sensation begin to creep from his chest, along his limbs and to his extremities, a strange resonation of his powers that he experienced once before. The Butler inclined his eyes towards him, wearing a confused expression that Jack returned with a mask of quiet uncertainty.

"Are you well? You seem…" he began with concern, but trailed off as his eyes fell upon someone walking into the cavernous room, and quickly asserted an expression of haughty superiority. Jack felt his personal space be invaded with the impunity that only a high-class Unity citizen could possess, and leaned back a small margin as the Butler came awfully close to him, and raised a finger to a specific point on the painting.

"No, I think you'll find that this city is New Arendelle. Do you see the domed building of the Unifier's headquarters? Although, I wouldn't expect Lower City ilk to notice such things…"

Jack had to resist the urge to punch The Butler in the face for the out-of-left-field remark, especially as it came on the tail of the heart-breaking news, but it was a desire softened by his next muttered words.

"…I will try to find out what I can. I will leave a signal in the usual place if I hear anything new...but know this: something is coming."

Without another word, The Butler swept away with the air of feigned disdain, even throwing in a single  _hmph_  for authenticity. Jack imperceptibly shook his head in incredulity at the instantaneous flip-flop in personality, and continued to gaze at the painting while he waited until enough time passed for him to leave without arousing suspicion.

Deciding that two minutes was long enough to leave a grieving Eugene alone and unchecked, he turned and kept his head slightly bowed as he casually sauntered out of the room, trying to avoid inadvertently crushing the chocolates with clenched fists as he passed a man with slicked back hair, dressed in a black floor-length military trench-coat with red trim and epaulets – classic Inquisitor garb.

He was so on edge due to the revelation about Scout Team Red's fate, the sudden change in The Butler's personality along with the surprise arrival of an Inquisitor…and the fact that his powers had taken on an almost uncontrollably cold humming that he didn't pay attention to where he was going…

…and subsequently bumped into a woman with platinum blonde hair swept back into a bun, wearing a fitted grey feminine military jacket and grey pants, her ice blue eyes glaring at him with haughty irritation at his absentmindedness.

* * *

 _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _**02:22:04:30:07** _

* * *

 


	10. Survivor's Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSYCH! Well, not really. The previous chapter title was kind of a clue :D  
> Erm, quick reminder of the M rating as sexual references and innuendo rest here, and trigger warning for anyone suffering from depression or the problem after which this chapter is named.

Whoever the man was, he had already bent down to retrieve the moderately thin box that hit the floor as soon as they bumped into each other, muttered a meek and hasty apology and slipped past her towards the museum's exit – all in the space of about four seconds.

It left Elsa with a multitude of sensations – for one, the nature of being startled by someone half-a-head taller than her as they collided, leaving the dwindling sensation of mild shock. For another, the disappointment that she wouldn't achieve any form of catharsis, remote or not, by subjecting the absent-minded buffoon to a harsh berating about how he should pay more attention in future – so the irritation was left un-vented.

"Ignorant idiot…" she muttered under her breath as she watched him mingle with a newly arrived group of New Burgess High students, and promptly disappeared from her vision. With an incredulous shake of her head, she walked through the huge archway that separated the main body of the museum with the east wing, and as she passed the free-standing wall that stood in such a position as to force visitors left or right, she noticed something wholly uncomfortable beginning to build within her chest, an angry buzzing that seemed to be far more acute than anything she had ever felt, enough to hitch her breath and involuntarily place a hand over her heart. With trembling fingers, she slipped her right hand into the modest black bag slung over her right shoulder and retrieved her silver pill case, and as she popped it open and gazed questioningly at the dozen little white objects within, she decided that it was probably going to take  _two_  to calm the angry wasp's nest inside her.

It was as she retrieved the little pills and popped them onto her tongue that she noticed something which made her feel a little bit like a student caught in the act of passing a note around class – Inquisitor Jafar was stood facing a painting on the free-standing wall, his head turned towards her, watching her with studious, calculative eyes. Feeling the blood begin to recede from her cheeks as an all-too-familiar sensation of crawling occupied the length of her spine, she barely let the pills settle in her mouth before quickly swallowing them down, and with as much nonchalance as she could muster under the uncomfortable circumstance, she held the open case towards him.

"Breath mint?" she offered impassively. Inquisitors were in the business of rooting out the truth within a snake's nest of lies, and she prayed that her casual approach to inciting his oh-so-obvious disdain for her would override his curiosity.

"…no." he answered succinctly, upper lip curling in distaste as he returned his gaze to the painting. Elsa internally smirked whilst suppressing a sigh of relief – any other Inquisitor would have accepted and promptly sent one of the 'mints' off to the military's research and development section for analysis. Yet, he chose to dwell in his evidently judgmental disdain…so far, so good. The conversation, however, would prove to be interesting and altogether tense.

"You said you had-" she began, but Jafar mercilessly cut her off as though she wasn't speaking. Whatever sense of victory she had dwindled under the burgeoning heat of annoyance.

"This," he announced loudly and arrogantly, "is  _Serpentine Lies and Snake-like Spies,_ one of my favourite paintings. You see the woman there, holding the viper to the sky with her hand around its throat and a sword in the other? That is High Inquisitor Gothel's predecessor, Ursula."

Elsa's eyes traced over the painting – a rather rotund, grey-haired woman with a slightly manic grin did indeed hold a snake aloft…and with typical Unity heavy-handedness, upon the grey viper's head was the motif of the Alliance, a stylised solid blue peregrine falcon swooping down upon its prey.

"Ursula believed that no matter how vigilant we are with our borders, how regularly we patrol our side of the Atlantic and eastern Russia, spies could always slip past and infect our society with their filth. Maybe, they could even attempt to worm a pro-Alliance figure into the ranks of Unity's government, to take an influential place when the time is right. That is why she created the Inquisitors, to root out corruption and disloyalty…and punish it.  _That_  is our role, our reason for existence – and so far, I daresay we excel at it."

Like a sentinel owl, he slowly turned his head to the left, and slightly down to fix Elsa with a scrutinizing look, as though he was trying to read her every move.

"I wonder, do  _you_  know the reason you Valkyries exist?" he asked, and Elsa got the distinct impression that it wasn't a question. She didn't know why, but it felt like less of a query of curiosity but rather I-know-something-you-don't-know…but then again, it was well-known that Jafar's whole inquisitorial schtick was based on that sentiment.

"Evidently I do, or else I wouldn't be here to suffer your arrogance." she tersely snapped, then realised with a flash of horror exactly who received the verbal bite. As an Inquisitor, Jafar technically outranked Elsa and was therefore well within his rights to arrest her there and then for disloyal behaviour to a superior officer – even though the Inquisitors were technically a separate secret police force, its leader reporting directly to the Unifier, his clearance level far exceeded hers.

However, she indiscernibly breathed a sigh of relief when his only response was  _"hmm…"_ followed by a quiet  _"interesting…"_

"Forgive me for being abrupt, but I was led to believe you possessed information that pertains to my squad's long term goal?" Elsa asked with a hint of impatience, noting that her limits were close to being reached. Jafar glanced briefly into her eyes, and with half a smirk he nodded.

"Yes, I suppose I did. From the four members of the scout team that you brought me, only one of them yielded useful information. The others remained silent as the grave, despite our numerous attempts to break them."

"What kind of information?" Elsa asked, her ears open and her mind alert, but retaining an emotionless exterior so as not to give him an advantage.

"Mostly culinary recipes; one was a particularly enticing moussaka that I intend to cook for my wife and son tonight. Beyond that, I am afraid I cannot tell you."

Elsa frowned deeply, unable to escape the feeling that she was being toyed with.

"Why not?" she asked with a tone of almost disappointed curiosity that splendidly masked the rising irritation.

"It's classified. I'm afraid your clearance level is too low." he drawled in a subtly sing-song voice.

Oh, she was so close to punching him in that smart mouth of his, and how refreshing it would be – but it wasn't worth losing her career over, not to mention the subsequent incarceration.

"Well, is it possible for me to speak to them directly?"

"I'm afraid not," he denied, his mouth downturned in a way that screamed 'mockery', "three of them committed suicide before we could glean anything useful from them, and the fourth? Let's just say he is unable to receive visitors of any kind…not that you would know where to find him, as his location is…"

"…classified." Elsa quietly groaned. It was beginning to occur to her that, for a government and its sub-sections that asked only for loyalty, honesty and obedience from its populace, there was an awful lot of secrecy and information held on a 'need-to-know' basis hidden behind the scenes. She knew that the Inquisition's methods and prison locations were kept from the public, but she was surprised to find that it was kept from the vast majority of the military as well…especially the Valkyries. For two organisations that were supposed to co-operate, there was an awful lot of reluctance hanging around.

"That's right," he smiled, as though educating a hapless student, "you see, you're forgetting your squad's role in the grand scheme of things, Miss Snowfield. Supreme Commander Larsen lets you loose on your prey and you hunt them down, wherever they may hide. You bring them to us, we extract the information, you are then sent on your next hunt. Do you know, historically, what other creature filled that role?"

Elsa didn't know, nor did she care. She figured it would be yet another insult or attempt to prove intellectual superiority, something Jafar seemed to be enjoying. She turned towards him and clutched the handle of her bag with ever clenching fingers, and as he stepped towards her and regarded her with amused yet contemptuous eyes, she bit back the urge to break his jaw.

"The answer is a beagle, Miss Snowfield. How does it feel to be compared to a small dog, to know that your squad's pathetic goal amounts to nothing but a glorified game of  _fetch_?"

Elsa's teeth were beginning to scream in pain with how tightly her jaw was clenched, her fingers threatened to squeeze the life from her bag's straps, and her eyes exuded a fire rivalling that of the sun. Her breaths were deep and loud, almost exclusively through her nose, and her right hand was curled into a fist she so desperately wanted to apply to  _any_  part of the Inquisitor's body. No-one insulted her squad like that in her presence….no-one except for those who enjoy a certain level of power and immunity to retribution, of course.

So she bit back her tongue, uncurled her fist, and with one deep calming breath prepared her best comeback – easier said than done, given the overwhelming urge to commit justifiable homicide.

"Well, at least my 'dogs' know how to keep their prey  _alive_."

If she scored a victory, Jafar's face did not betray defeat in any way, shape, or form. Rather, it kept the thinly veiled expression of smugness, of secret knowledge that she was not privy to. Sensing that the conversation was over, and incensed at the fact that she travelled all the way to the museum for  _nothing_  except insults and demeaning barbs, Elsa turned on her feet and strode off towards the edge of the free standing wall, before yet another veiled jab from the anger-inducing man stopped her in her tracks. She did not give him the satisfaction of seeing that he indeed got a rise out of her, however, choosing instead to keep her back to him.

"I wonder; when this is all over, when every member of the abnormal resistance is either captured or dead and you have sated your lust for vengeance, what use will there be for a Valkyrie…for people like you? Food for thought, I imagine."

Elsa let loose a string of obscenities within the safety of her mind that desperately sought to find their way to her tongue, but all that she allowed herself to say was a polite yet terse  _'goodbye'_ as she disappeared behind the wall and left the east wing, indignant anger governing every step.

"Fucking narcissistic, smug, arrogant, time-wasting asshole!" she hissed quietly once she was sure her words would not be heard by him – or anyone else for that matter.

* * *

 

Jafar's self-congratulatory smirk fell into a knowing half-smile as he listened to Elsa's dwindling footsteps, the heavy thudding of each step a clear giveaway of how easy it was to get under her skin. As an Inquisitor, it was the modus operandi to slip through – or break – the shell of lies and defiance to get at the meaty truth within using whatever means at their disposal, however immoral those methods may be. However, there was nothing he could stand to gain from antagonising the promising young Valkyrie, and he had no intention of sharing the information he eventually gained from the scout 'Sneak' with her or anyone else, for that matter. As far as Elsa, High Inquisitor Gothel or anyone else was concerned, he learned nothing…

…as in a world of secrecy and distrust, of half-truths and obfuscation hidden behind a façade of honesty and faithfulness, cold hard information is a valuable currency for those with power and ambition.

Jafar had an ample supply of all three, and he felt it was time to put one of them to use.

"By order of the Inquisition…clear the room."

His loud, commanding bark yielded instantaneous obedience from the ten or so civilian men and women that populated the Alliance exhibit, including those who just that second walked into the room. That was the sign of power, the ability to elicit unquestioning loyalty from the population with just a few words, an implication or even an overt threat. As the last of the museum-goers exited the room and left him in peace and relative quiet, he smiled predatorily at the painting while his left hand pulled his right sleeve up just a few inches to reveal his standard issue wrist communicator, and moved the object in front of him.

"Begin outbound communication, one-way only. Encryption level alpha-seven-one." he calmly ordered, patiently waiting for a few seconds while the comm-band processed his directions. With a barely audible chirrup, a tiny bulb began a sequence of regular blue blinks in a sign that it was waiting to record and send his message.

"I know who you are, and you know who I am. I have some information that will be beneficial to both of our plans; therefore if I have caught your interest…you know where to find me."

* * *

  _Time: 18:32_

 

There are two rules when undercover in an enemy city, and they are simple enough to follow.

If a two-person team is separated when on an intelligence-gathering mission, and for whatever reason communications are down, then the first port of call is to return to the safe house and wait – provided you are not being followed, of course.

The problem; several times during the return journey from the museum, Jack tried to surreptitiously raise Eugene on the wrist communicator to find out precisely why he was nowhere to be seen, only to receive no response at all. So, with his scout friend possessing a ten minute head start, along with two trams he was forced to skip due to them being at full capacity, concern for his team-mate only grew with every delay.

There was a silver lining in among the murk of anxiety though – there was no activity among the Upper Level security force, and the elevator sentinels had not shut down the only method of transportation between each level, so Jack could rest easy knowing that his companion had not been made.

On the other hand, the knowledge that Eugene was alone and carrying a team's worth of emotional trauma rested heavily on Jack's shoulders like weighted suitcases, and it stayed with him all the way to the door of their safe house apartment, where he hesitated before sliding his card key into the reader…which leads to the second rule: always use the previously agreed rhythm of knocking before entering a safe house.

_Rap, rap, rap…rapraprap._

In his distraction over Eugene's wellbeing, Jack failed to remember the specific rhythm – he slid the card key through the vertical reader, simply opened the door…and everything after that was a blur.

The first thing he saw before it happened was a darkened apartment, and the first thing he  _felt_  as he stepped through the doorway was the kiss of cold metal against his left temple, and like a striking viper his left hand lashed out, grasped the wrist of the assailant and pinned it to the wall. His legs followed up almost immediately, pivoting on the ball of his left foot while his right hand – having swiftly dropped the box of chocolate bars – shot out and gripped the assailant by the neck, slammed them against the wall and held them there. He could thank Fa Mulan for the instantaneous reaction…if he ever saw her again.

"…your…hands are…really…cold…" the pinned intruder rasped, the words finding the task of escaping Jack's grip to be somewhat difficult. Frowning in dawning recognition, the Ghost loosened his grip of the person's neck whilst keeping the gun-hand pinned against the wall.

"Lights." he ordered, and as the voice-responsive strip lights slowly illuminated the small living room around him, his head slumped in exasperation when he found out exactly who the supposed attacker was.

"The hell you doing, Eugene?" he hissed as he released his hold on his friend's wrist and neck. Eugene merely shot him a withering glare as he angrily pushed the Ghost away with one hand, using the other to massage his throat. Jack's mildly surprised eyes followed him as he staggered away from the wall and made his way towards the round black plastic table and chairs near the wide living room windows, swaying slightly with each step.

"You forgot the  _special_  knock." he sneered mockingly as he flopped down onto one of the chairs with a deep exhalation of breath, resting his right elbow on the table and his head in his hand, eyes gazing at an invisible spot on the floor. With his black pea-coat strewn over the other chair and his hair a dishevelled mess, Eugene looked far removed from the suave, confident man Jack knew.

"Yeah, and I forgot the special dance too. Sue me." Jack snapped, glaring at him while he reached out his left hand and whacked a button on the wall behind him, causing the clear glass windows to become an opaque black – a technological replacement for curtains – and used his heel of his right foot to kick the door shut. It was then that Jack noticed the six rectangular bottles of synthetic alcohol they purchased from a Lower City shop two days after arriving in the city, five of them empty and cast apathetically on the floor around the table, and the sixth one that sat near his friend's elbow, well on its way to being drained completely. One of the perks of the fake booze – it works quickly.

"You're drunk." Jack noted; a spectacular statement of the obvious.

"You're really observant, you know that? Yes, I'm drunk, so here's a gold star. Congratulations." Eugene slurred a little, with sarcasm dripping from every letter as his searing eyes found Jack's, and gave him the most acid-filled glare he could muster while his fingers brought the bottle to his lips.

"Look, I know you're hurting, and-" Jack began as he took a few steps towards his friend, wondering if he could ever make him feel just a bit better.

Eugene growled something unintelligible as a biting interruption as he pushed himself up from the chair, his glower wavering only once while he leaned over to the other chair to pick up his coat…and nearly fell onto the table in the process. If it wasn't so sad, Jack thought that would have been hilarious, but any potential mirth was brutally destroyed when Eugene strode past him and took the time to roughly bump into his shoulder on the way.

"Where are you going?"

"To get more fake booze," the scout snapped, not even turning around to address the question, "I am nowhere near drunk enough to sit there and listen to you."

"You're not going anywhere, Eugene. You're staying here." Jack growled, the commanding tone to his voice undone by the sheer amount of empathy he felt for his friend's state of mind. Eugene whirled around and strode right up to him, a fiery stare and curled upper lip as his eyes met Jack's merely eight inches away from each other.

"Oh? Who's gonna stop me, huh? You? Like you stopped the Valkyries from taking my team, and the Inquisitors from killing them?" he roared, and to his credit Jack didn't flinch at all, just looked at him with a gaze that danced between sadness and anger. He realised he had been holding a breath since Eugene got to his feet, and with a deep exhalation in an effort to calm himself, he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried his best to console his friend.

"Look…I know what it's like to-"

Jack's sentence was cut abruptly short as the next thing he felt was the sharp pain of Eugene's right fist connecting with Jack's left cheek in a vicious, grieving rage-fuelled strike.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING!" Eugene roared, incensed by the attempt to sympathise. Nursing the stinging sensation on his cheek, Jack slowly and calmly turned his head towards his friend. Despite the cold fire in his gaze, he was unwilling to respond in kind just yet, especially when he saw the shimmering wetness in Eugene's brown eyes. He was drunk, he was in pain, and he wasn't thinking straight…and Jack knew it.

"I know you're hurting, and that's why I'm letting you have that punch for free…but if you try that again, the next one won't be."

In his weakened emotional state, Eugene took that as a challenge, as a way to vent all the frustration and anger at his team-mate, however misplaced it was. With a sharp intake of breath he wound his right fist back and aimed a strike at Jack's jaw…which the Ghost summarily countered by twisting to the left. As the jab sailed harmlessly by, Jack grabbed Eugene's right arm with one hand and his shoulder with the other, and wrenched his arm behind his back. The scout's angry curses, mingled with the pained hisses of  _'let me go!'_ only reinforced to Jack that for the moment, he needed to be tough with his friend.

"I'm gonna let you go in a second…but you've got two options. You can either chill the fuck out and we can talk about this…or you can  _try_  and hit me some more. It's your call."

As an act of good faith, Jack released his grip just a little – enough for Eugene to know that he was being honest, but also enough to quickly reapply the grapple should the fight start all over again. Mercifully the scout elected to wrench his arm from Jack's grip, and meandered forward a few steps, and Jack watched him bury his face into his left hand while his right reached out to the backrest of the couch to support himself.

"I only have a vague idea of how much pain you're in," Jack spoke calmly and softly, "but I know what it's like to lose someone. Trust me, though, if you walk out of that door as wasted as you are, someone  _will_  call the security force. You  _will_  be arrested for disrupting the peace, they  _will_  work out who you are, they'll find me, and then what happens? We. Will. Both. Burn."

Jack watched as Eugene's legs seemed to give out from under him and collapsed to his knees, his face buried in his hands as the unmistakeable sounds of muffled sobbing reached the Ghost's ears…and in that moment, Jack felt his retaliatory anger fall away.

"…or is that what you wanted?"

The silence – well, weeping silence – from the broken scout told Jack all he needed to know, and with a despondent sigh he removed his grey pea-coat and tossed it over the basic white couch, the back of which Eugene was slumping his right side against, his body giving up completely in its despair. He slowly descended to the floor and rested his back against the firm linen covering of the backrest, brought his legs up so they formed an A shape in order to rest his elbows on his knees, and as he listened to Eugene's sobs he created a small, dull snowflake over the palm of his left hand and allowed it to dance over his fingertips, its slow movement a reflection of the helplessness inside the young Ghost.

"Hell of a day…" he murmured to the icy construct, gazing forlornly as it seemed to revolve once in grim agreement.

* * *

 

It was well past eight o'clock, the sky had darkened – not that they would have known due to the opaque pseudo-curtains and the fact that almost no natural sunlight reached their apartment windows – and Eugene barely said a word since the tidal wave of survivor's guilt and despairing rage crashed over him like an unstoppable force, desperate to be acknowledged and felt.

Jack managed at one point to gently relocate his friend onto one of the chairs next to the table, and safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't try to leave in his drunken state nor would he attempt more violence, the slightly taller Ghost ended up rinsing out the empty bottles of synthetic alcohol and filling them up with water, believing that if Eugene was going to drink something, it might as well be beneficial and maybe help with the epic hangover he would feel in the morning.

As for everything else? Well, that was up to Eugene. He could either talk or bottle his feelings up, and thankfully after about half an hour of further silent, contemplative and nostalgically grieving thought, Eugene finally spoke…and it was with a voice and expression of amused cheer that completely contradicted the earlier anguish, taking Jack a little off guard as the words came out of nowhere.

"Couple of years ago, the boys and I were in one of those dives in…settlement six, I think, a few clicks east of New Corona. Real ramshackle place, looked like it would fall over if someone so much as sneezed. Corrugated metal walls, wooden roof, makeshift lighting that probably violated at least six different Unity safety regulations. You know, the kind of place you want if you're looking for a fight and a drink, and  _boy_  did they have the good stuff. Made it themselves."

Jack half-smiled as he looked away in reminiscing thought, acutely aware of the type of building Eugene was referring to, given that one stood about half a mile from where his mother and sister lived.

"Anyway, our conversations can get a little rowdy, you know, a little heated. Especially if someone mentions food in Sneak's presence, 'cause that's his passion…and if you even hint at Italian food? Man, he's all over that. He said his parents were born in Brooklyn, New York…you know, before the war, so he's got an Italian-American background. Starts ranting about how the food replicators are completely useless at getting tomato and tuna pasta right, and the first thing he's gonna do when we're free is cook it like it's supposed to be."

Eugene burst into chuckles that sounded almost pained, and Jack couldn't help but laugh along with him, especially when the scout started gesturing animatedly with his hands in an approximation of his squad-mate's behaviour.

"So, like an idiot, I say that I've got a little bag of parmesan just in case. Big mistake. Apparently, it's a massive taboo to put any kind of cheese on fish, or pasta that contains fish, so he flips out. Starts berating me for my ignorance toward his heritage, saying that under  _no_  circumstances should cheese or milk  _ever_  go anywhere near tuna and that I'm an idiot for even thinking I could get away with it."

Tears started to form just above Eugene's lower eyelids, and Jack wasn't sure whether they were tears of mirth or sadness, but kept silent out of respect.

"Thing is, he's getting really loud about it. The other guys just stopped what they were doing and listened to me get an earful like I'm some child, and pretty soon we attracted the wrong attention. These three big guys, you know, people you don't wanna mess with come up to us led by this bald guy with an awful handlebar moustache, and he goes  _'hey, you pipsqueaks are talkin' too loud. Why don'tcha fuck off outta here before we shut yer mouths for ya?'."_

Jack leaned back into his chair with a wide grin on his face as he listened to Eugene's memory, then reached for one of the bottles of water and sipped as the scout temporarily lost the ability to speak under paralysing guffaws, his entire upper body shuddering with comic laughter.

"So I think Sneak's pride is gonna get us into some real shit here, and start reaching for my stun pistol, but what does he do? Just turns around to the guy and says all casual, like it's nothing: ' _Yeah okay, jus' one second, I'll be with ya in a moment'_ , then turns back to me and starts shouting all over again, saying that I probably eat while I walk – also, another cultural no-no. Completely ignores the guy while he's railing into me."

At that point, Eugene stood up from the chair with such abrupt speed that Jack nearly darted from his own seat in case his friend fell, especially as he was still completely drunk. Continuing the display of Sneak-specific gestures and a decent approximation of an Italian-American accent, Jack watched as Eugene acted out the entire scene before him.

"Of course, Mr Moustache doesn't like it and taps Sneak on his shoulder, saying  _'didn't you hear me? I said get out'_ , to which my buddy turns around and nonchalantly goes  _'Yeah, I heard ya. I'll be with ya in a minute, I jus' need to educate this philistine 'ere!'_  and then he carries on berating me while I'm sat there on that stool like a kid in the principal's office. The other guys; Sparky, Grasshead and Spooky are just laughing their heads off while it's all happening, and Mr Moustache looks like he's about ready to explode 'cause all Sneak is doing is ignoring his manliness, so he says what is probably the  _worst_ thing you could ever say:  _'Bro, just shut the fuck up, okay? Stop yelling about crappy Italian food, it tastes like shit!'_ "

Jack took a sharp breath with a wince for flavour; he barely knew Sneak, but judging by Eugene's story, insulting his heritage was probably a fatal mistake.

"So Sneak then pauses, and he gets this look in his eye. Only ever gets that look whenever we're out on a mission and we're gonna get into a fight with Unity patrols. He holds up a hand to me and goes  _'Hold that thought, I'm just gonna deal with somethin''_ , and quick as a flash he slams a fist into Moustache's stomach, hits him with a right hook across the jaw, and then picks up the stool he was sitting on and breaks it over the guy's head. Other two mooks run away 'cause their leader is out cold on the floor, and what does Sneak do? Turns right back to me, apologises for the interruption and then gets right back onto how he needs to re-educate me on proper Italian cooking. Just like that, as though nothing ever happened. Me and the other guys are just cracking up, and he just looks at us and goes  _'…what?'_  not even understanding what we're laughing at. It isn't until he sees that we're pointing at the guy on the floor and says  _'Oh…my bad. Kinda rude of him to interrupt me though, am I right?'_ "

Eugene collapsed back onto the chair with a wide smirk across his mirthful face, and took a sip from a nearby bottle of water to wet his mouth and throat, nearly choking a few times as the laughter kept coming.

"As we're leaving, he said that he's gonna take me to see his folks, and they'll treat me to some proper Italian cooking. None of that replicated shit, just scavenged goods and homely love. Said that his sisters would love to meet me, and if I wanted to, he'd allow me to go on a date with the eldest one…though he warned me that he'd break my legs if I ever hurt her…"

Eugene's laughter slowly but surely dwindled, the guffaws becoming chuckles, then slow grunts, and as the humour faded from the room, he stared at a fixed point on the floor, a dejected and depressed frown replacing the once-elated grin and happy mirth, and his next words were so faint, broken and weak that any cheer was swiftly forgotten.

"…how am I going to tell his family that he's never coming home?"

* * *

 Ten thirty had come and gone with Eugene retiring to bed hour ago, having lost the battle to stay awake under the ever increasing weight of emotional exhaustion descending upon his mind and body, along with the synthetic alcoholic haze becoming more and more of a physical and mental quagmire as time went on. Deciding that it was well past time for his buddy to get some sleep, at nine thirty Jack put his foot down and, while supporting Eugene with one arm under his right shoulder while the other firmly gripped his left bicep, he helped the nearly unconscious scout into the bedroom for some much needed rest.

Hilariously – or, at least, it would have been if the circumstances were different – as soon as Jack carried his friend to the bed and let him unceremoniously flop down onto the sorry excuse for a mattress, Eugene promptly fell into a deep sleep, lost control of his motor functions and fell off the edge onto the floor with a spectacular  _thud_. Initially, Jack wondered if he should try to relocate him back onto the mattress and start the process all over again, but decided there was no real point as Eugene looked perfectly comfortable on the cheap laminate wood floor, completely passed out.

So, the Ghost merely pulled the thin bedsheet from the mattress and lazily threw it over Eugene's inert form, left the room, and closed the door behind him amidst sounds of sleepy whimpering and faint, broken, sleepy sobs.

There's the discomfort a sober person feels when all their friends are drunk around them making fools of themselves, and there's the sensation of being completely useless and helpless when your friend is drinking to dull the pain, blind the memories and warp reality…and all they can do is watch.

As the time approached ten forty-five where a masked and goggled Jack, satisfied that he could leave Eugene alone in the apartment, slowly and lazily danced staff in hand across the myriad rooftops of the Lower City buildings on his way to the eastern support column where radio reception would be at its strongest, lost in thought as the wind gently and sympathetically cradled him like a lazily floating leaf.

One of the things that stuck in his mind since leaving the safe house was something Eugene mumbled – or rather, heavily slurred – while he was helped to bed.

" _I'm alive, and they're not. How is that fair, that I get to breathe and they get to die?"_

Jack didn't know what to say to that.

On the other hand, the guilty feeling that crept into his stomach as soon as he saw his friend in his drunken state, and swelled into his entire being was down to one singular thought, one inescapable seed of knowledge that weighed heavily on his heart. He was alive and free that day because Scout Team Red was asked to stay behind and distract the Valkyries,  _knowing_  that their agreement meant their time was up. It was a tough decision to make, a horrid question to ask, but Kristoff had to do it…and Eugene's grief was the aftermath of that decision.

Jack knew that the Butler was right in his estimation that the attack was tactically predictable and thus a Pyrrhic victory, and he  _also_  knew that Kristoff was right in the sense that had Scout Team Red not been asked to do what they did, there was a strong chance that the Ghosts would either be dead or imprisoned.

Of course, Kozmotis would endeavour to brutally slaughter as many Unity troops as he could before he met his end, but eventually even he would fall.

As he reached the monolithic support column and gently floated to perch on one of the longest antenna that protruded east, he made a solemn promise to himself, Eugene and to Scout Team Red that their sacrifice would not have been in vain, that he would make it worth something.

"Frost to base, come in." he spoke, hoping that what he had to say was important.

* * *

  _Time: 22:44_

 

"I can  _hear_  you thinking." Anna lazily drawled, and Kristoff felt her snuggle tighter against his broad, muscular chest.

Laid in bed under the coarse cotton sheets, adorned in the light sweat associated with post-lovemaking pleasure along with the dwindling buzz of a particularly acute orgasm, he drew ragged breaths as he held a naked Anna close to him, her right leg draped across his thighs, her obscenely warm skin caressing his chest and her head resting just over his right pectoral muscle, her breaths just as heavy and mingled with shy giggles. Sex with his girlfriend was always an intriguing yet careful affair, incredibly satisfying though it was, and as such he always approached it with a degree of trepidation.

"Is that so?" he snickered, kissing her scalp as she slowly nodded into his chest.

"Yup. It's like, deafening. Also, I bet I can guess whatcha thinking about."

"Oh? This I've gotta hear." Kristoff taunted, feeling her draw gentle circles into his left shoulder.

"You're thinking about how, every time we have sex, you always have to hold back. You're thinking about when you come, you might lose control and accidentally hurt me. You're wondering if it's ever gonna change so I don't have to be on top all the time, or you don't have to go slow when I want it fast, because you're afraid you're going to break my pelvis or something."

Kristoff didn't use words, but a deep and long exhalation through his nose carried all the answers that his girlfriend needed to know she was right. He felt the bed dip slightly as she pushed herself up, adjusting her weight so she could rest her arms on his chest, and smiled to himself as her angelic and freckled smiling face took up most of his vision, her expression one of supportive determination.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again – yeah, there are times when all I want you to do is fuck me senseless, to do it until we're sore in the morning. There are times when I want to be dominated  _by_  you instead of dominating you, where I want to be on my hands and knees instead of riding you. Yeah, there are times when I have this flash of worry that when you're about to come, you'll squeeze my hands a little too hard…but you know what?"

"What?" he asked, frowning at the last sentence in particular. In response, Anna smirked and tapped his nose with her left index finger.

"It doesn't matter if all we ever do is cowgirl or very-very-gentle-missionary, 'cause you and I are meant to be. Kristanna all the way. I don't mind what we do or how often we need to compromise, so long as I have you."

Kristoff felt his heart swell with warmth at her words. He admired Anna ever since she boarded the  _Guardian Star_ , admired how she seemed to take it all in her stride. He remembered how he felt unworthy of her, and always thought Jack would be the one to elicit her affections because of how close they became, not knowing that they only saw each other as friends. He remembered how her decision to become a Ghost was one of the best days of his life, all their 'dates' on the flight deck of the  _Star_  all led to the moment where, under the warm July sun a year and a half ago he told her he loved her, and she gave him the most blinding beam in existence…and then told him she loved him too.

"Bullseye," he winked, and gently stroked her sex-swept, dishevelled hair behind her left ear, "how did you know?"

"Because you're predictable and because I'm awesome." she declared, smirking and bouncing a little with pride.

"I love you." he murmured, gazing into her sapphire orbs and didn't miss how she flushed red and smiled sweetly in response.

"I love you too!" she whispered, and leaned down to press a gentle but loving kiss on his lips, something he gladly returned. The kiss soon deepened as his hand reached up to entwine itself in her hair and her hands moved to his cheeks in a futile effort to hold his face still, and swallowed her breathless, desiring moan as an all too familiar heat began to blossom in their stomachs. Slowly, she slid her hand from his cheek down to his neck and along his chest and abdominal muscles on her way to one inexorable destination, and his throat betrayed him by letting loose a low growl as her fingers wrapped themselves around something  _very_  sensitive.

"Hmm," she murmured coyly, pulling back just enough so their lips touched, " _someone's_  awake. What do you say, handsome, ready for round two?"

Kristoff smirked and gently guided her hips to hover above his while she kept her hand firmly wrapped around his length, ready to escort it wholesale to her warm and moist entrance…

…and then there were three knocks at his door.

"Yes?" he groaned, while Anna rolled her eyes and flopped exasperatedly against his chest, both lovers incredibly irritated by the rude and impeccably timed interruption.

" _It's Neve. Sorry, am I disturbing you?"_

Kristoff frowned at the door, while his eyes travelled to the right as Anna pushed herself up once more, meeting her perplexed gaze. A silent question passed between them, and the small incline of her head towards the door provided the answer.

"No, what's up?"

" _Hiccup's on the night shift, and he just told me that Jack's on the radio right now."_

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute." he called. Anna promptly rolled off him and positioned herself on the mattress so she was laid on her left side, propping her head up with her hand, and watched as Kristoff slid from under the blanket and proceeded to dress himself in his black cargo pants and white fitted t-shirt.

"You coming with?" he asked as he adjusted the t-shirt to fit more comfortably. Anna merely shook her head, but the curl of her lips into a coy smile told him all he needed to know.

"Nah, I'll stick around. I…er…want some time to myself, if you catch my drift. Little bit pent up." she spoke in a low and husky voice, and Kristoff became starkly conscious of a squeezing pain in his crotch and the fact that Anna's right arm was hidden under the blanket.

Never before was he so split between his duty and the stunning personification of irresistible beauty before him.

* * *

  _Time: 23:00_

 

The journey from his quarters to the Ghosts' briefing room took surprisingly little time, and that was most likely down to the fact that he forced himself to continue walking, knowing that if he hesitated for just one second he would turn around, march right back to his quarters and indulge himself with hearing breathless moans and screams of his name as he and Anna reached familiar levels of passion.

Unfortunately, duty reluctantly overrode the desire to be in his lover's embrace, and given that Jack's communication was well outside of the previously agreed hours, he knew it was  _maybe_  worth resisting the desire for another session of dizzying heights.

Maybe.

Pushing open the heavy steel door that revealed the dimly lit briefing room, he was greeted by Neve who stood beside the active Uni-Com Mk I, dressed in a slightly baggy yellow t-shirt and loose fitting blue pyjama pants, her hair no longer straight and neat, her arms folded across her chest as she regarded him with a knowing smirk.

"So I did disturb you, then?" she said teasingly as he descended the steps towards her.

"Disturb me? Uh, no. Not really. I was just…er…thinking." he stammered, blushing fiercely.

" _Liar. You and Streak were making sweet, sweet music, weren't you? Come on, I can practically see your cheeks going red."_

Kristoff rolled his eyes and promptly covered his face with one of his huge hands, groaning to himself that the com-line with Jack was still very much active.

"Hello, Frost…."

" _Streak and Harvester, married they should be, f-u-c-k-i-n-g!"_

"Frost!" Neve laughed both out of embarrassment and schadenfreude as Kristoff's face reached unthinkable levels of crimson, "that's a little inappropriate, don't you think?"

" _Pfft. He can't slap my head right now, so I can get away with it. Ner-ner!"_  Jack retorted.

"It's okay, Snow White. I'll just get Flynn to slap him for me." Kristoff spoke in a calm, mock-threatening tone at the Uni-Com. However, he did not receive the repartee for which Jack is usually recognised, instead garnering nothing but awkward silence across the comm-line. Frowning, he wondered if he had said something that touched a nerve, given how instantly Jack switched from immature mockery to deathly quietness.

"Frost, are you okay over there? Did something happen?" Neve asked with worry in her tone as her eyes met Kristoff's concerned brown orbs.

" _Yeah, you could say that. We met with Bravo today."_ was the decidedly grim reply.

"Okay, so, what did they say?" Kristoff asked.

" _Sparky, Grasshead and Spooky are down. Sneak is…combat-incapable."_

Kristoff uttered a deep and dejected sigh as the news punched him like a sledgehammer to the gut, and his head slumped as he rested his hands on his hips. Neve's head turned to and fro between the audio representation of Jack and the Ghost leader by her side, curious about the meaning.

"What do you mean?"

"He means three of them are dead, and the Inquisitors broke Sneak's sanity." he grimly explained, and Neve's face fell into pained sympathy as one hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh my God…that's horrible. H-how…how is Flynn?" she murmured weakly, but just enough for Jack to hear.

" _Well, he drank six bottles of synthetic alcohol, took a swing at me, and passed out a couple of hours ago. Does that answer your question?"_ was the slightly bitter, mostly sarcastic answer.

"Frost," Kristoff spoke with reprimanding firmness, "that's enough."

" _Sorry. I just…yeah. Anyway, that's not all. I reached out to you guys this late at night, 'cause Bravo said something that isn't sitting well with me, so I thought you guys should know: something is coming."_

"Did he happen to say what that 'something' is?" Neve asked, her hands wringing together in worry for Eugene and for the cryptic news.

" _Nope. That's all I've got for now."_ Jack replied. Kristoff folded his arms across his chest in contemplative thought, his eyes occasionally flicking to Neve while he stared at the metal floor.

"Okay. Thanks, Frost. Go and get some shut-eye, and don't forget to radio in at the agreed time." he spoke calmly, sensing that the conversation had well and truly run its course.

" _Roger. I'll buzz you if I find anything else...oh, and tell Streak I got her some chocolate. Frost out."_

The faint background noise that accompanied Jack's radio communication suddenly ceased, indicating that he took Kristoff's advice and left for the safe-house. The burly Ghost then turned on his feet and flopped down onto the nearest briefing room chair, and rested his forehead in the crook between his thumb and forefinger in thought. Sensing his contemplation, Neve carefully moved over to the Uni-Com and half-sat, half-leaned against it, folded her arms and regarded him carefully and studiously.

"What do you think the source meant by that?" she asked, watching for any sort of reaction that would indicate the next move.

"I don't know. It could mean anything, something good, something bad…I've got nothin'. All I know is, for something to spook Jack like that…I've got a bad feeling about this." he muttered, staring at the bulkhead behind the Uni-Com in pensive, frowning thought. Neve exhaled deeply as she scratched the side of her head, and then rested both of her hands on the Uni-Com's desk as she gazed at the floor.

"Okay, so, we've got a few options. We could-"

" _Sanctuary_." Kristoff interrupted her with a single word, not even moving his eyes from the metal wall that his vision was burning a hole into. Neve sighed with mild exasperation as a response, her head shaking to punctuate the lack of feasibility.

"Kristoff, that's just a theoretical pipe dream. We've not ready to start  _Sanctuary_ , we haven't even made any plans…" she trailed off, as Kristoff's gaze moved from the wall behind her and met her eyes, and instantly she could see into his thoughts…and she knew he was right.

"Neve, I don't think we even have a  _choice_."

* * *

  _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _ **02:22:23:51:42**_

* * *

 


	11. Sanctuary

_Anna had enough._

_She snuck into Kozmotis Pitchiner's class ten minutes before it was due to end, anxious to find the person who everyone said would be the best equipped to enlighten her. Only, he spent those ten minutes explaining to his class of eight to fourteen year olds, including one thin boy with messy black hair, that she was the daughter of the very people responsible for the abnormality-suppression vaccine. The murmurs and suspicious glances that followed, as well as Kozmotis' smug smirk, gave her the intensely acute feeling that she wasn't welcome, and his borderline bullying continued well after he dismissed the class. As far as she was concerned, she just wanted some candles for the darkness of confusion in her mind, and she didn't need the offensive snark. Anna Snowfield takes shit from no-one._

_Which is why, a few seconds after the last child had left the briefing-slash-class room, she marched straight down the steps that separated the blocks of chairs, and punched him in his nose._

" _Fuck you. Yes, I have their surname, but you know what? I am_ not _them. I'm a scared woman that's lost at sea – literally – who in one night became someone who could pull flames out of thin air, who lost her parents and probably won't ever see her sister again, who was hunted down by a government that I_ thought _cared about me and rescued by a bunch of so-called bloodthirsty, murdering anarchists…who are actually really nice guys. I can't ever go back to my old life, and I am_ trying _so hard to understand why, okay? So please, shove your prejudicial crap where the sun doesn't shine and give me some answers, because of all people you should know the value of_ not  _being a judgemental ass."_

_It was then, as she finished her tirade that she remembered something that sent a wet trickle of worry down her spine – she just socked one of the most violent and dangerous Ghosts in the face, who amassed quite the body count even before becoming a member of their group…according to Jack at least. Fortunately for her, the impromptu display of fisticuffs along with the harsh yet emotional tirade seemed to garner something she did_ not _expect from him as he leaned back on the Uni-Com interface and gingerly touched his nose – a little bit of respect._

" _You've got fire, Snowfield. People rarely talk to me like that. I may not trust you, but I think I can learn to dislike you a little less. What did you want to know?" he spoke with amusement, pushing himself off the Uni-Com interface with his gold eyes fixed unwaveringly upon her sapphire orbs._

" _Where did you…we come from?" she asked, firing off her first question of the session. Kozmotis raised a single eyebrow and nodded in acknowledgement, and with a mutter of the words 'abnormal history' to the interface, the air around them was filled with holographic images that floated in a clockwise circle around them, like a three-sixty degree lesson._

" _To answer that," he explained, waving one hand left to right to speed up the clockwise revolutions and find a specific image, "we have to go back to the Third World War."_

_Anna folded her arms and watched as he muttered 'no, no, that's not it…ah, here we are' and tapped an image of a facility situated in a hilly field, with the label GREENLAND in the bottom left._

" _This is where it all started. This building is still shrouded in mystery, and try as I might I cannot find its true purpose, but about three years into the war it was deemed a high-value target by the Russians, and summarily obliterated by a cruise missile. There were no counter-attacks in revenge, nor did any country admit ownership of that particular facility…so naturally, it was swiftly forgotten."_

" _Okay, so building goes boom. What happened next?"_

" _What happened next was a sequence of events that changed the world. Whatever was being conducted in that facility spread around the globe using the prevailing winds, and in the weeks that followed people began to notice…changes. Some could lift cars. Others, like you, could harness fire. The odd thing was those that weren't changed outright found that it happened to the next generation, or the generation after that – which is why we are still seeing Bloom Events decades after the war's end."_

" _So let me get this straight," Anna frowned, staring at the facility as it was engulfed in a titanic inferno, "Scary building goes boom. A few weeks later, some people become abnormals and those that don't, their kids do. Almost as if they're carriers…which means…"_

" _You're more intelligent than I thought. We believe that whatever was released from the explosion was biological in nature, therefore we call it the Toxin." Kozmotis announced almost proudly._

" _Huh," Anna hummed, letting it all sink in, "okay. So what happened after the Toxin changed people?"_

" _Well, that's when our history_ really  _begins." Kozmotis smirked, and Anna couldn't tell whether she liked the ominous expression or not._

* * *

_Location: Guardian Star, 400 miles south of Greenland_  
_Date: September_ _2nd, 2073  
_ _Time: 07:30_

He was the best at this sort of thing.

Even at the tender age of fourteen, having undergone his Bloom Event at ten years old, his ability to see into, decipher and manipulate the limitless lines of code that made up the contemporary software utilised by Unity and the vintage –  _'hideously archaic',_ he once called it – computer systems used by his fellow abnormals meant that though he was still young, he was an important part of the day-to-day running of the  _Guardian Star_ …or at least, he liked to think so – and never missed a chance to remind his peers of this fact. Especially Hiccup.

So, the idea that the artificial intelligence he designed for the prototype medical robot "Baymax" was being decidedly uncooperative was inconceivable to Hiro Hamada. Hell, you could even call it heresy, if you were into that sort of thing.

It was technically the brainchild of his older brother Tadashi, whom he had left behind when he was rescued by Kozmotis Pitchiner in a stroke of luck that would rival most winning lottery tickets. Unfortunately, the elder Hamada brother was limited by the technology he had access to – which was very little as they lived in one of the ramshackle settlements a few miles south of New Corona, so Hiro felt it was his duty to carry on his brother's work to create a robot that could diagnose and treat any illness or injury, internal or otherwise.

If only he could solve a coding quirk that was causing Baymax to have an uncontrollable thirst for the destruction of mankind.

"Come on…you gotta work with me here, Baymax!" Hiro muttered to himself as he wandered through the bowels of the ship towards her galley, his head bowed down and eyes firmly locked on his personal glass tablet, the legions of white letters and numbers constituting Baymax's currently flawed A.I. He did this so often that his feet instinctively knew where the lower portions of the watertight door frames were located – affectionately known as  _knee-knockers_  by both the previous U.S. Navy sailors that lived on the ship, along with its current occupants. Initially, Hiro questioned why they were named as such when he first came on board, but was made acutely and painfully aware of the reasoning several collisions between his shins and the  _knee-knockers_  later.

Needless to say, he quickly learned to lift his legs.

Flicking his fingers across the screen, his eyes scanned and took apart the lines of code to find what might be causing the both the error and murderous robotic rage. With a quiet and tiny gasp, he frowned when he saw the numbers 2 and 3 were misplaced with each other on the five hundred and seventy two thousandth, six hundred and forty-forth line of code.

"Dude, c'mon. Misplacing two numbers? That's something Hiccup would do, not you." he chided himself as he placed his left index and middle finger over the numbers and twisted his hand so they took each other's place.

"Okay…" he sighed, halting his journey for what would  _hopefully_  be a momentous event as he pressed the ACTIVATE icon on the bottom left of the tablet, "let's see if this works."

_I AM BAYMAX, DESTROYER OF MANKIND. I CANNOT BE STOPPED. THERE ARE NO STRINGS…_

"Nope!" Hiro yelped quickly, and with equal haste he jabbed the DEACTIVATE icon to hopefully delay the Robot Apocalypse for a little longer. With a load groan, his arms exasperatedly flopped down to his sides, and he bumped his head a little too roughly against the metal bulkhead in frustration.

"Ow…" he whimpered as he gently massaged the red mark that appeared on his forehead, cursing Baymax's disobedience and the inherent toughness of metal walls. Sighing, he slipped the glass tablet back into the pocket of his purple hooded sweater, turned around and flopped backwards against the bulkhead, closing his eyes in introspective thought.

He missed his family; there was no doubt about it. Tadashi always warned him about his arrogance – despite having an affinity for technology, Hiro had a small knack for rubbing it in people's faces. So when his Event occurred and he began to see the world in code and software algorithms, one of the first things he did was use the family's Uni-Com to hack into the Unity Media Stream and screw up the propaganda for the day, replacing it with images of cuddly creatures and colourful, animated robots.

Naturally it attracted the attention of Unity's Abnormal Arrest Squad – the precursor to the Valkyries – and within three hours, six armed men burst through the door, knocked his aunt Cass and Tadashi to the floor and literally dragged the then ten year old out of the house, his young screams mingling with those of his family. He had never been so terrified in his life before that moment.

Luckily for him, and to the squad's misfortune, a man was passing through the settlement on his way to one located a few miles east. Hiro didn't even see the man attack before the battle was over, the inky darkness that covered the settlement coupled with the almost inhuman speed and ferocity of the intervention meant that before he knew it, five of the men were dead at Hiro's trembling feet with the sixth dangling a foot from the floor, a shadowy tentacle wrapped around his neck that was attached to a tall and slender man silhouetted by the headlights of the squad's hover jeep.

He remembered the man's first words to him as he glared contemptuously at the last soldier:

" _Close your eyes. This is something no child should see."_

Squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears for good measure, Hiro crouched to the ground and gladly obliged.

The next thing he remembered was the feeling of Aunt Cass's chest against his head and her arms wrapped protectively and comfortingly around his body, and the gentle rocking back and forth as the shock finally wore off, letting the tears fall from his young eyes, the sudden terror of the event finally catching up with him.

After that, it was relatively calm. He chanced the removal of his hands from his ears, and could make out a conversation between his family and his rescuer, who introduced himself by his call sign: Pitch Black. With Hiro's mind still racing nineteen-to-the-dozen, he could only make out snatches of the conversation, but the general outlook was grim: as long as Hiro remained with his family, they would find no respite as Unity would keep coming for him.

However, Pitch Black had a solution: he could take Hiro to where he would be protected and his gifts would be encouraged, and when the world was safe enough he would be able to see his family again. Faced with the prospect of a return visit by the AAS, Tadashi and his aunt Cass agreed that leaving would be the best thing for the young boy…even if it was like losing a part of their hearts in the process. So, with many tears shed and an emotional plea from his aunt to Pitch Black that was too low a whisper for Hiro to hear, he set off on his journey to make sure that both he and his family would be safe.

Tadashi was sneaky, however; he made his younger brother take the blueprints and algorithm ideas for Baymax with him. The elder Hamada always wanted to help people, so it was an unspoken promise that one day, young Hiro would return.

Four years later, and the abnormals were no closer to freedom than they were back then…in fact, it felt like a net was closing in around them every day.

Yet, Hiro stubbornly held onto hope, which his rescuer-turned-scary-uncle didn't seem to possess.

Sighing glumly, he pushed himself off the wall and slipped his fingers inside the pocket of his sweater with the intent of trying again to curb Baymax's homicidal tendencies, but voices from the corridor ahead gave him pause – Kozmotis was walking towards him followed closely by Hiccup, and both faces were of uncertainty and in his scary-uncle's case…a dash of grumpiness. Hiro chuckled internally when he noticed that, as always, Kozmotis wore his Ghost uniform instead of civilian off-duty clothes like Hiccup, who wore faded brown pants and a rich red t-shirt. The shorter engineer was the first to notice him standing there, and offered a cheerful wave.

"Hey buddy, you're up early!" Hiccup greeted him warmly. Hiro shrugged and offered an awkward smile as they stopped beside him.

"Yeah, I woke up early to tweak Baymax a little more, so I thought I'd get some food while I worked."

"Oh? How's that working out?" Hiccup asked with curiosity.

"Some of the codes and algorithms aren't playing properly. I'll get it done eventually, though!" Hiro answered with an air of nonchalance, casting a glance at Kozmotis whose expression was swiftly becoming one of impatience.

"That's cool, need any help with it?"

"Nah," Hiro waved a dismissive hand, "you can't read and understand this sort of thing, only I can. Thanks, though."

"Okay, let me know how it goes. See you around, buddy!" the engineer jovially said, smiling as he turned to leave.

"Oh, I'll remind you, don't worry about that. Hey, where are you guys going?" Hiro asked curiously, his gaze now resting upon Kozmotis, whose eyes quickly shifted over to his.

"Ghost meeting." was the decidedly terse answer.

"Cool! Can I come? I mean, I should be there too, right? I  _am_  the one that makes sure all the computer systems are still working, you know. I'm pretty much as close as it comes to being a Ghost."

Kozmotis quirked a single eyebrow at his student's mild conceit, and the impatience seemed to fall away from his expression. He slowly folded his arms and fixed Hiro with a stern glare that made the fourteen year old tense a little in discomfort.

"Have you ever shot someone?" was the first question, asked in a calm and smooth tone.

"Uh…no?"

"Have you ever fired a weapon?"

"That would be a no, too."

"Have you even  _held_  a weapon?"

"…not yet, but I'm trying to convince Anna to let me take part in firearms training!" Hiro brightly offered his last card in an attempt to change the tall man's mind.

Kozmotis unfolded his arms but kept the strict expression as he brusquely turned and continued on his way.

"Then you are definitely  _not_  a Ghost, and therefore cannot be present at the meeting. Don't be late for this afternoon's class."

Hiro's eyes remained on Kozmotis' back as he nursed the disappointment and the simmering petulance inside – he felt he was intelligent and driven enough to be one of the team, and that his age was only a number. Whether Kozmotis was being overprotective or simply grouchy, he didn't know, but the cold manner in which his desire was shut down stung both his pride and his heart.

"Sorry buddy…" Hiccup offered apologetically, spreading his hands and grimacing in sympathy before hurrying off to join his comrade who, by then, was a fair distance away.

His head slumping in defeat, Hiro turned and resigned himself to a session of sulking and coding in the ship's galley, before a strike of indignant petulance shot through his chest. Sure, he was young, but considering he was responsible for the upkeep of the ship's computer systems along with fine-tuning the targeting software of the Phalanx turrets on the flight deck, in his mind he had every right to be at that meeting – especially as it wasn't a scheduled one. Something was amiss, and he was determined to find out what.

Revolving on the balls of his feet, he quickly scampered away from the galley, ignoring the growling of his stomach and quietly chased after the two Ghosts, intent on following them to the meeting and hopefully catching a glimpse of what was so important…but once he closed to within hearing range, he slowed his pace to eavesdrop on the start of an awkwardly personal conversation.

"So, why were you so grumpy to Hiro just then? Did you take your angry pills or fall off the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

From his vantage point a dozen steps behind them and the occasional dart behind the protruding wall of each watertight doorway, Hiro managed to catch Kozmotis shoot a sidelong death glare as they walked.

"None of your damn business, Haddock." the black-haired man growled.

"Ooooh, someone's definitely in a mood this morning."

"I am not."

"Sure, and I'm the chieftain of a Viking tribe. What's really going on, Koz? Why are you so intent on keeping Hiro out?" Hiccup persisted. Hiro slowed his pace in preparation; badgering the Ghost-slash-teacher was usually a bad idea, something that the young boy regularly entertained for his personal amusement.

"I'm not keeping him out. The boy is too young, that is all there is to it."

"Yeah, okay. I'm  _sure_  that's the real reason. I think you're just being-"

That was the point that Kozmotis had enough. Hiro darted behind one of the vertical protrusions, and as he peered out he saw a grey skinned hand roughly grab Hiccup's t-shirt and forcefully push him into a nearby room, the similarly coloured face contorted with deep irritation. Once they passed out of sight, Hiro carefully stepped over the  _knee-knocker_  and crept towards the open doorway, like the ill-fated cat killed by curiosity and revived by satisfaction. There was nothing but silence for a time, except for the indignant  _hmphs_  of Hiccup and the deep, calming breaths of his 'uncle'. From his spot for perfect eavesdropping, Hiro heard something he would later hold on to for a long, long time…and helped him to understand the tall man just that little bit more.

"If even a word of what I am about to say leaves this room, Haddock, I'll make sure  _both_  your legs are false, do you understand?"

Hiro heard a chortle from Hiccup that matched his own suppressed sniggers, in a weird version of ventriloquism. Kozmotis could make threats all he wanted, but Hiro  _knew_  he would never hurt his kind unless they were a direct threat.

"Neve has been asking questions of us that have been, for lack of a better term, pointed; whether you can get the ship moving after two years of being static; if I knew for sure there was a bunker hidden under the Toxin facility in Greenland. You're an intelligent man, so I  _know_  you're thinking the same thing."

"All the more reason for Glitch to be there," Hiccup persisted, unwilling to drop the point, "his skills will be important."

"He's not ready for this." Kozmotis flatly denied.

"How do you know? None of us were ready. Dude, Hiro is my buddy so I hate the idea as much as you do, but if we want the war to end we'll all have to grow up eventually. You and I did."

Hiro heard Kozmotis utter a loud and long exhalation, as though what was coming next was about physically hurt him to the core, and he was psyching himself up for it. He was a very personal man, everyone knew it – even Jack, who was the closest thing to a friend that Hiro knew Kozmotis had.

"I am a monster, Hiccup. I have killed, brutally and without mercy. I have no illusions about it, and I am comfortable with what I am."

"Yeah I know," the chocolate haired man piped up, "you had a pretty high body count even before becoming a Ghost."

"Exactly. It was for that reason I was the one to train Anna in combat – even after all she went through, she still had that childish innocence and wonder, the love in her heart. My role was to train her to push it aside and bring out the warrior within. Hiccup, I had to put a gun in a little girl's hand."

"Koz, she was eighteen back then, that was three years ago. She wanted to be a Ghost, so it's not the best comparison. Anyway, she seems pretty well-adjusted, don't you think? She loves Kristoff, jokes around with Jack…"

"And how many horrible things has she seen since becoming a Ghost, Hiccup? The Reaper attacks on settlement twelve, the rage and the hate in every Unity soldier's eye? Hiro is only fourteen…and I know he wants to be one of us."

Hiro felt his stomach churn just that little bit as he listened to both Kozmotis' words and the silence that befell the room just a few steps ahead. He was thankful that no-one was walking the corridor at that point, as they would surely have nonchalantly greeted him and given away his presence, and heaven help him if he was caught.

"Innocence is a rare thing in this world. Hiro lost too much of it the night I rescued him, and I'll be damned if I allow him to lose any more. The instant he is forced to fire a weapon, whether it be in defence or not, I will have failed in my guardianship of him. Whatever this meeting entails cannot be good, and I would like to make sure Hiro is still a child for a little while longer."

"Wow," Hiccup said in surprise and almost mock-awe, "I never knew that Pitch Black had a heart under all that grouchiness and sarcasm. You actually  _care!_  That was beautiful, dude. I'm really fighting back tears."

There was a beat; had Hiro been in the room at the time, he would have seen Hiccup receive a death glare. Of course, he didn't need to be present to know that that would have been the customary reaction.

"No, really! I'm all choked up!"

"Shut up," Kozmotis snapped, "and I swear, if Jack hears anything of this I will toss your false leg overboard and you can swim for it. Bad enough to have to tell you this to get you to back off, but if Frost gets wind of this conversation…"

A single boot step towards the open doorway was all it took for Hiro feel the fleeting surge of panic, and he quickly retreated to his original position and hid behind one of the protruding sections of the bulkhead just in time for Kozmotis to sweep out of the room and resume his thudding footsteps towards the mysterious meeting. Quietly waiting for Hiccup to leave the room as well, with his strides decidedly lighter and mingling with muffled chortles, the young boy peered out from his place of stealth and waited for the two men to disappear up the ladder that would take them to the next level – he knew where the meeting room was located so there was no need to follow them anymore, and he could use the space to think. So, as Hiccup's foot disappeared through the hole in the ceiling, Hiro crept from his hiding place and quietly made his way in the same direction, his mind ablaze with questions.

Why was Kozmotis being so overprotective? He knew that he was treated differently to all the other teenagers in the classes that the tall Ghost taught, since he was given the tougher questions and vastly more homework to do. Of course, Hiro knew he could take it – he had a sneaking suspicion that his I.Q. was greater than any of the other students…but he had a feeling that it wasn't his intelligence that made him a target.

All he knew was that he had to be at that meeting, whether Kozmotis wanted him there or not. He's one of the cleverest people on the  _Guardian Star_ , if not  _the_  cleverest. He had a right to be there, damn it, regardless of his age. Kozmotis just didn't understand his desire to be one of the team, right? He wasn't stupid, he was aware of the bleak nature of life as an abnormal and the world's disdain and hate for them. He just hadn't experienced it fully, aside from the incident four years ago.

So, even if he was just going to hide outside the door and eavesdrop as much as he could, he was going to be there. Kozmotis couldn't stop him; he was as much a Ghost as any of them.

He just needed to prove it.

* * *

The stealthy trip to his destination took less time than he thought it would, especially given that when your mind is occupied as you walk, the seconds tend to fly by.

Passing an empty stock room that lay adjacent to his goal, he slowed his pace and craned his head to the right, checking to see if the watertight door was closed…which, as he found out to his dismay, it was. Muttering a quiet  _"dammit…"_  to himself he silently crept forward and, upon reaching the metal obstruction to the mysteries he so desired to solve, he placed his ear against the cold surface and strained to make out any sounds coming from within; a word, laughter, movement… _anything_.

There was nothing.

He felt the iron-heavy ball of disappointment drop from his heart into his stomach, and grumbled to himself that the only obstacle, the only thing stopping  _him_  was a freaking door. His quest was stymied by an inanimate  _object_. Attempting to open it would only give away his presence, and Kozmotis would be  _pissed_.

"You win this round, door."

Turning to skulk off back to the galley and resume banging his head against the metaphorical algorithmic wall of Baymax's murderous A.I., yet another source of irritation as it was something he  _knew_  he could solve, Hiro dragged his steps down the corridor.

" _Achoo!"_

It was lucky that he was so slow. With the ladders that would take him down one deck ahead of him, he heard the slightly clumping footsteps of someone climbing up along with a rather loud sneeze. Like the metaphorical deer in the headlights, split between darting for safety and remaining frozen in place, his legs and mind automatically chose the former and rushed the rest of his body into the empty stock room, flattening him against the wall where he could peer into the corridor.

A few seconds after that, he spotted Anna – or, at least, the back of her body – pass by the doorway, stopping once to double over and fire off another sneeze into her hands and a dismayed  _"ugh"_  as she wiped them down her black pants.

Was it his imagination, or did her hands suddenly ignite with the nasal evacuation?

He paid no further attention to the odd sight as, satisfied that she had control over her nose, Anna continued on her journey into the meeting room. Hiro felt the fleeting glimmer of hope as he peered out into the corridor and watched her push open the doorway and enter, offering a slightly muffled and glum  _"Hi, guys…"_ to announce her arrival.

Hiro didn't hear her close the door behind her.

Feeling the surge of excitement at the second chance, he quickly darted out of the room and crept low, carefully stepping over the inconveniently placed  _knee-knocker_  and crouched just beside the doorway, grinning in glee when he found that he wasn't hearing things – the door was indeed open.

"You okay there, Anna? You look a little red-nosed." Hiccup's voice swam out of the room.

"I'm fine, Hic! Just a few sneezes, that's all. Hey, what's this all about anyway?"

"Yes, I'd like to know too," Kozmotis joined in, "I have to prepare for class soon, so I'd like to get this over quickly."

"Don't fret, Mr Pitchiner. We'll be finished with plenty of time to spare." That was Neve. Her voice told Hiro that whatever it was they would be discussing was  _definitely_ important.

"As you remember, I have asked each of you questions that seemed a little…pointed. It was…unintentional; however I know you are all intelligent enough to know the devil is in the details."

Hiro heard a deep sigh that could only have come from the boss-lady herself, and his heart began to race just that little bit more with the prospect of juicy details.

"The reason I asked those questions is because of an idea that Kristoff and I call  _Sanctuary_ -"

"One moment," Kozmotis interrupted her, and Hiro heard the scrape of a metal chair followed by several footsteps towards him. Frozen in place, his heart went nineteen-to-the-dozen as he listened to the approach of his scary-uncle, and when his body ignored his mind's orders to scramble to his feet and hide, he prayed that Kozmotis wouldn't be  _too_  angry at the flagrant disobedience.

He was lucky. Kozmotis didn't step through the doorway…but he did shut the door with a metal  _clank_. Hiro felt the wave of relief that crashed through him mingle with the irritated disappointment that, at the most critical point of the conversation, he was cut off.

"You win again, door." he muttered grumpily. Rising awkwardly to his feet, Hiro continued to grumble as he skulked off toward the ladder…but felt the faint glimmer of hope and determination in his heart as he realised something – he now knew about  _Sanctuary_ , even if he didn't know precisely  _what_ it was…and that alone might be enough to get Hiccup or Kozmotis to tell him about it.

Hopefully.

* * *

 

_Time: 20:16_

Eight o'clock came and went as Hiro knocked on the door that led to the engine control room, having been summoned there fifteen minutes previously. He was unsure of why he was needed, given that his great talent lay elsewhere other than metal pipes, flick switches and old-fashioned dials. Either way, Hiccup asked for his help with something – surprise, surprise – so Hiro wasn't going to miss the chance to assist and later remind him of how valuable his help was, so naturally he responded to the call.

He might even get a chance to ask about  _Sanctuary_ , depending on whether Hiccup wasn't rushed off his feet like he was all day.

"Come in!" yelled a voice from the other side of the watertight door, which was instantly recognisable as his not-as-smart rival. Smirking to himself, Hiro pushed open the door with a little more effort than it needed as the day's events were starting to tire him out, and stepped over the  _knee-knocker_  into the room.

Passing a shiny dividing steel wall filled with circular dials of various sizes to his left, and another wall of differently coloured blinking lights to his right, Hiro remembered that he had never actually been  _in_  the engine control room before – so he certainly took the opportunity to commit the small location to memory. Two rows of thin metal desks sat in the middle of the room, upon each of them sat small triangular blocks with little flick switches, and on the furthest desk was perched an old-fashioned telephone – an ancient relic of a forgotten time. The ceiling was low and adorned with heavy piping, air circulation vents, strip lights and a few handheld speaker mics attached by coiled cables, with the buttons on the side to allow speech – through one of which, standing by an old and decrepit chair behind the furthest desk, Hiccup was issuing orders to the engineering volunteers in the propulsion deck.

"Hey buddy, be with you in a second… _no, try altering the flow regulator on the sixth fuel cell_ …I'm just trying to work a miracle here… _what do you mean it's not working? That's a fresh cell, dude!"_

Hiro grimaced as he listened to Hiccup's attempts to vicariously fix the problem in the propulsion deck – if he was actually there, the problem would mostly likely have been solved, but the engineer was confident in his team enough to stay in the control room and monitor the readings from there, and basically act as a glorified Uni-Com repair technician.

Leaning his hip casually on the closest desk, Hiro smirked as with one hand on his hip and the other clutching the mic, Hiccup shook his head with mild exasperation and a strangely amused smile on his face, as though he found the situation vaguely humorous.

"Murphy's Law hard at work, eh buddy? Propellers are okay, turbines are fine…pipes are a bit rusty but they'll be fine, the ship's ready to move and what goes wrong? The fuel cells. Seriously, you can't make this up."

"Well, she is kind of  _old_ …" Hiro shrugged.

"Hey," Hiccup mock-scolded him, "the lady is not  _old_ , she's  _seasoned._  Just because she's been around for nearly a century doesn't mean she's  _old!_ "

He reached his hand to the ceiling and lovingly stroked it, crooning, "Don't you listen to the mean little scamp; you are a graceful, badass woman!"

"Sure, whatever you say gearhead. The ship is  _ancient._ " Hiro continued the relentless tease, greatly enjoying the look of jaw-dropped mock offence that was shot at him. Software versus hardware, an age-old battle fought with sarcasm and jabs.

"Well, she's still going strong, unlike your Baymax. 'New' doesn't always mean 'better', dude."

"I'm inclined to agree," a smooth, silky voice from behind Hiro caught everyone's attention, "I trust old-world technology far more than anything Unity will ever create."

The young boy turned to find Kozmotis, clad in his special operations gear – worn utility vest, fingerless gloves, his mask and goggles attached to his belt – eyeing him with curiosity and a little confusion, as though he did not expect his student to be there.

"Truer words were never spoken. Anyway, if you've got that glass tablet, can you connect with the Uni-Com up in the briefing room and use it to keep an eye on the software systems, Hiro? I wanna make sure we're not gonna screw anything up when we take the lady for a spin."

Hiro nodded his acknowledgement, and smirked a little in self-important pride as he fished out the tablet from his pocket and, with finger movements too rapid for anyone but him to follow, he navigated the humongous amount of programs that were running concurrently to find the one that interfaced with the Uni-Com, all under the watchful eye of his teacher.

"So you basically want me to do your job for you?" he drawled, and watched as several different readings, all with percentage efficiencies flooded the right side of the tablet. Some, like the Phalanx turrets, sat at eighty percent while others straddled either side of fifty five. Each day Hiro was amazed that the  _Star_  didn't fall apart – though he wouldn't deny he would miss the old girl.

Hiccup ignored the comment and chose to issue a few more commands through the mic, effectively taking him out of the conversation – which was kind of what Hiro wanted. Without looking up from the tablet, he spoke in as much of an offhand, nonchalant voice as he could muster to hide his curiosity.

"So…are you going somewhere?"

He didn't see the narrowing of Kozmotis' eyes, though did sense the change in tone from unemotional to almost suspicious.

"Yes. Haddock and I are going to Greenland. It's a secret task."

"Is it something to do with  _Sanctuary?_ "

The sudden silence was deafening, and an ironically  _loud_  signal to Hiro that he struck true. Looking up with a smirk, he saw that Hiccup had frozen mid-sentence, his eyes glancing between him and Kozmotis, completely oblivious to the woman on the other end of the mic repeatedly calling his name to no avail. However, it was the taller Ghost's reaction that sent a pang of guilt through the fourteen year old's stomach – the golden eyes that bored into his very soul radiated not just anger…but disappointment.

"I should have known better than to trust you, Hiro," his teacher spoke in a low, firm growl that sent a flicker of fear through the young boy's spine, "you think that because you possess a higher I.Q. than anyone on the ship, the rules do not apply to you. I am disappointed in you, Mr Hamada."

Hiro slowly dropped his head, feeling shame settle in his heart and stomach. Despite the fact that Kozmotis seemed to be a cantankerous ass to him nearly all the time, especially to the point of giving him extra homework in class, the conversation he overheard was indication enough that Kozmotis Pitchiner actually  _cared._

"Sorry. I just…I wanted to…" he mumbled, but was harshly cut off.

"Wanted to what, exactly? Eavesdrop on a private meeting because you could, or because I told you not to?"

Hiro found himself with nothing he could say, the words seemed to still in his throat. Coupled with the fact that the only sounds were the loud hums of the engine room, along with the decidedly audible breathing of his teacher, the air around them was awkward…until Hiccup quietly broke it, much to the boy's relief.

"You might as well tell him, Koz. The cat's pretty far out of the bag."

Hiro's head jerked up in time to see Kozmotis shoot the engineer a death glare and fold his arms for emphasis. Following his gaze, he saw Hiccup shrug as if to say  _'nothing you can do about it now…'_  before returning his attention to the mic and the woman now shouting his name. Hearing a deep sigh, Hiro's hopeful gaze returned to the pair of eyes almost twice his height, which closed in resignation.

" _Sanctuary…"_  Kozmotis spoke clearly and quietly…and Hiro felt a buzz of anticipation course through his mind as he listened to every word. "…is not a plan, but the name of our new home. Kristoff and Neve both knew that eventually our numbers would exceed that which the  _Guardian Star_  can support, so we needed to find a new place to call our own. A place where we can thrive in secret so, to that end, Hiccup and I will fly to the Toxin facility in Greenland to find out if the rumours are true of an underground bunker designed to survive a nuclear holocaust, large enough for five thousand people or more."

"Okay," Hiro nodded, "that makes sense. We're kinda exposed here in the Atlantic, so…yeah. What would happen to the  _Star_ , if there is a bunker?"

Kozmotis paused for a second and cast another sidelong glance, one that was met by Hiccup. Both faces showed uncertainty and more than a little grim resignation…and a strange sorrow in the engineer's eyes.

"She will be stripped of everything that will help our kind survive. Everything. When we finish, she will be nothing but a shell, a shadow of her former glory. We will be taking apart one home to build another."

Hiro felt his breath catch in his throat, and a twinge of sadness shoot through his chest. Sure, he held a mild disdain for the aging aircraft carrier…but she was  _home_. She was all he ever knew for four years, and supported nearly twelve hundred souls like a titanic, steel-crafted mother.

"Ouch. No wonder you wanted to keep it secret…" he murmured.

"That's not all," Kozmotis slowly shook his head, "not by a long shot. Four days ago, Jack broke radio silence to warn us that something was coming. He didn't say what, but it was enough to worry Neve and Kristoff into action – because of that, they decided that the best chance for our survival no longer lies on the  _Star_ , but in Greenland. It's easier to hide underground."

"That's why we only move at night, because of the Dead Zone. Unity pilots can't use their scanners here, so they have to fly by sight – and the longer they spend searching for us, the more they risk being spotted by Alliance patrols…and war. That's pretty much the only reason we're still here." Hiccup added.

"…but why are you trying to get the ship moving, if you don't know whether this bunker is real or not?" Hiro questioned, but this time it was Anna that answered.

"Well, it's bedder to dow if she can sail when de time comes…" she muttered, her words hilariously muted by the obvious congestion in her nose as she parked herself near Kozmotis, having entered the room without anyone noticing.

"You okay there, Anna? You look like hell; shouldn't you be in bed or something?" Hiccup frowned, cocking his head to the side as she wiped her nose with her arm. For some reason, both Hiro and Kozmotis felt the urge to step back a few paces and press themselves against the blinking lights on the wall behind them, regarding her with a wary expression.

"I'm fine, Hic! No way'm I gonna miss dis… _achoo!"_

It was lucky that they did; when she wiped her nose on her arm once more, another sneeze erupted which caused a surge in her powers, and a medium-sized fireball shot out from her fingertips, flew past Kozmotis, narrowly missed Hiro's messy buoyant hair, and hit the wall opposite, causing a patch of angry flames on impact. Three pairs of eyes darted between the fire and the fire-weaver, who wore an expression of wide-eyed horror.

"Crap!" she hissed, and ran out of the room, a staccato uttering of  _"crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap!"_  following her and with incredulous surprise Hiro watched as she returned with a fire extinguisher, brushed past them while lifting the canister and shot the white powder at the circular blaze, her mutters of  _"crapcrapcrapcrapcrap"_ not ceasing even once.

"What the hell just happened?" Hiro asked, staring bewilderedly at the embarrassing scene.

"Anna has a cold." Kozmotis answered simply.

"You're joking."

"Do I  _look_  like Jack Frost?"

"…how? She's a fire-weaver, how the heck is she bothered by the cold?" Hiro gaped in incredulity, glancing at Hiccup for enlightenment – receiving nothing but a shrug. Kozmotis on the other hand, covered his face in the palm of his hand and groaned in exasperation.

"She's not  _cold;_  she has  _a_ cold…please tell me that the man in charge of maintaining our home and the boy in charge of keeping its software running, two of the most intelligent people on the ship are aware of the basic concept of viral infections?"

Hiccup opened his mouth to retort the ill-disguised snark, but a gleeful voice emanating from the handheld mic snapped his attention. As he listened to the woman's voice on the other end a wild grin appeared on his lips, and with a pleased  _"copy that"_  he hooked the mic back onto the receiver and picked up the aging telephone from its cradle on the nearby desk.

"Bridge, this is Hiccup. The fuel cells are hooked up and waiting. We're good to go down here…right…okay…will do. Wish me luck."

Quickly replacing the telephone receiver on the cradle, Hiccup reached up to unhook the handheld mic once more, flicked a switch to set it to a ship-wide P.A. system and, with as breezy a voice and nonchalant an expression he could muster, he cheerfully prepared the crew.

"All hands, this is your chief engineer speaking! We're about to start sailing at a steady speed of three knots for the first time in two years, so please keep your belongings secured, stow all tables in the upright position, fasten your seatbelts and get ready to kiss your butts goodbye!"

He glanced over with a cheeky grin at his fellow occupants, who all regarded him with expressions that danced between bemusement and wide-eyed concern, forcing a hasty amendment from the chocolate-haired man.

"…that last part was a joke. Yeesh, tough crowd. Okay, in five…four…three…two…"

Hiro assumed that when Hiccup reached  _"one"_  that the four underwater propellers, now fed by the six fuel cells in lieu of the nuclear reactor that once acted in their place, slowly began to revolve and commence the task of pushing the hundred thousand ton behemoth through the water, but he heard no sound from the turbines below.

What he  _did_  hear, however, was a long and agonised metallic creaking and groaning that undoubtedly echoed throughout the ship, as though the very act of movement was something that caused the ancient carrier an aching pain, much like arthritis in elderly joints. The  _Guardian Star_  continued to utter her dismayed opinions for a long time, prompting all heads in the room, including Anna's – who by that point had completely forgotten that she put out the fire a while ago and still clutched the extinguisher – and for the first time in a long time, Hiccup looked mildly concerned. Catching Hiro's disconcerted gaze, he quickly curled his lips into an awkward smile and threw a shrug in for emphasis.

"Hey, don't worry. She'll hold together," he spoke cheerily, before another load groan tore its way through the bowels of the craft, "please hold together…"

After what felt like an eternity, filled with nervous looks and tensed bodies, the groaning eventually stopped and the engine room reported a steady speed of three knots in a northerly direction. Hiccup exhaled a relieved sigh, and grinned awkwardly when quiet applause rang out through the room – sans Kozmotis of course.

"Aw, stop it guys," he waved dismissively, and then inclined his head toward Hiro's tablet, "how's it looking?"

Hiro glanced down at the percentage readouts that shone from the transparent surface. "Everything looks okay from here – a couple of power fluctuations, but nothing bad. You know, as much as I hate to say it…nice going, Hic."

"Eh, it's nothing. I'm just happy there's still life left in the lady. Anyway," he grinned, changing the subject when he spotted Kozmotis' impatient taps of an imaginary watch, "I should probably get ready to go. Toothless is gonna love this."

Offering a cheery goodbye, the affable engineer sidled past the desks and passed Kozmotis towards the door on the other side of the dial-filled wall, and after a pair of curt nods as a silent farewell, the black-haired Ghost also turned to leave. Before he knew it Hiro's hand shot out and tapped his teacher on his right arm, and quailed slightly under his questioning gaze.

"Is there something further you wish to discuss, Mr Hamada?"

"No…nothing. I just…wanted to tell you I already did today's homework." the young boy offered awkwardly. Kozmotis gazed at him for a short time, enough for Hiro to feel the burn of those golden eyes and avert his gaze.

"I look forward to marking it."

Just in time, Hiro looked up at the uncharacteristically not-cold words to see a respectful nod from his teacher, before he too swept out of the room towards the hangar deck. Staring at the empty space in thought, Hiro clutched the glass tablet and felt something that could oddly be described as worry, and nearly jumped when a decidedly warm hand rested upon his shoulder.

"So, on a scale of one do den, how much are you going do miss Principal Pitchiner?" Anna soothed, and Hiro turned his head up and to the right to meet her smiling face and sympathetic sapphire eyes – and felt a rush of embarrassment in his cheeks.

"Zero…duh, he's my teacher…" he frowned at the implication, before a lightbulb suddenly switched on and an idea shot through his mind like a bullet, "wait…that's it!"

Ignoring the quirk of Anna's eyebrow at the sudden change of demeanour, Hiro quickly swept aside the percentage readouts and pulled up the errant A.I., and with manic speed born of a glorious epiphany, his fingers rushed across the shimmering white keypad, creating and deleting lines upon lines of code in a matter of seconds.

"…what's it?" Anna asked curiously, as she tried to make sense of it all.

"Shhh!" he hissed as his fingers and eyes darted left and right across the tablet, "I'm working!"

He sensed the lowering of Anna's head nearby and, had he not been so focused on finally solving the problem, he would have sniggered internally at the thought of her futile attempts to understand software language and computer algorithms. She wasn't stupid, he was acutely aware of that, but he was  _so_  much better at it than she was.

Finally, after several furious and paradoxically agonising minutes, Hiro tapped the last letter and held his trembling finger over the ACTIVATE icon. His heart thundered in his chest while his breath stilled with anticipation, hoping that after several long months he might have actually solved the A.I.'s quirks once and for all. For a moment, he was frozen in time as he watched the code lazily drift across the tablet, patiently waiting for his response…

…and with a deep breath, he gently tapped the icon.

The countless lines of letters and numbers began to furiously shoot across the screen in any and all directions like a series of numerical and alphabetical fireworks, racing around each other in what anyone else would constitute as a frenetic mess, eventually colliding in the centre and condensing to form a shimmering white sphere, with lines of code lazily floating around it like the rings of Saturn. To Hiro, however, it was so much more than that.

It was a birth – and as a rectangular window gently opened itself underneath the sphere, he felt his breath catch as words began to form inside it.

_Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?_

"YES! I RULE!" he cheered, the tablet nearly colliding with Anna's face as his arms shot up in victory. Now that he perfected the A.I., all he needed to do was build a chassis for it…and he grudgingly figured he might need Hiccup for that.

But it didn't matter;  _Sanctuary_  would have its own medical robot, free of prejudice or hate, programmed to diagnose, heal and care.

Of course, Hiro had a few ideas for a role  _other_  than that…and they all involved badass armour.

* * *

_COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _**02:18:01:15:26** _

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too tedious!
> 
> The theme for this chapter was "Project Insight" from the Captain America: The Winter Soldier OST (love that soundtrack).
> 
> Next up: Three Valkyries walk into a bar...


	12. Three Valkyries Walk Into a Bar...Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't shoot me!

_Location: Snowfield House, Upper City_  
_Date: September 4th, 2073_  
_Time: 18:55_

Given Elsa's cool temperament to her squad mates, and the fact that Inquisitor Jafar mercilessly shot down her enquiries leaving her with nothing to do since the museum meeting but read holo-books, hone her skills and watch security recordings of Ghost attacks on depots and supply convoys to study their individual combat techniques - the Battle of the Depot was as much a test of her team as it was of the Ghosts' capabilities. Stood in the middle of her living room with the ever-reliable Uni-Com's holographic transmitter hard at work, she carefully scrutinised the five glass tablet-sized video screens as they revolved around her in an achingly slow fashion, the blue hue of each moving rectangle illuminating her face and folded arms. Each Ghost's name hung just below the images; information that Unity pieced together from survivors of the past attacks.

As the time approached seven in the evening, mental exhaustion began to sink in as the different recordings lazily floated in a clockwise circle a foot and a half from her head. What she could piece together was that Pitch fought with bloodthirsty precision and lethal strikes, the sand-tendrils acting as extra limbs that would slash, rend and tear apart his prey. Harvester would utilise brute force; flipping  _Odin_  tanks like they were children's toys and literally punching the heads off his enemies, sometimes even using one clone to bludgeon another. Streak fought with the mentality of  _offence-is-the-best-defence_ , chaining together punches and kicks like a whirling dervish of violence that  _always_  had the opponent on the defensive, especially when she liked to set her twin batons aflame and use them to burn as well as strike. Night Fury was rarely on the ground, so any attempt to learn his fighting style was useless.

Frost, however, was almost a joy to watch. His agility and acrobatic finesse, coupled with the fact that he often fought defensively meant that he was almost impossible to hit; his opponents would contact nothing but air while he twisted, dodged, weaved and countered their attacks with well-placed staff hits to weak spots like the back of the knee or the neck, before finishing them off with either a hard hit to the head or a swift snap of the neck.

Elsa mused that watching him in combat was like a beautiful  _dance_ , and she noticed that more often than not, she found it…mesmerising.

There was one odd thing she noticed before her brain prepared to surrender to the pernicious creep of fatigue: if the guards were humans then they were either stunned or knocked unconscious; if they were the opaque helmeted clones…a different story. Valkyrie training made the various abnormal paramilitary groups including the Ghosts to be warriors that killed without mercy – yet the way they avoided killing non-clones seemed to be almost…moral, as though they had a code of honour.

As she pinched her nose to soothe away the creeping tension headache, born from the hours of watchful learning, she wondered why the Ghosts took great care to  _not_  kill normal humans yet seemed to have no problem murdering her parents. However, it was a question that was locked away as she felt the mental fatigue completely set in, and decided that it was probably time to give her mind a break.

"Uni-Com, end Program Elsa-One." she muttered, releasing her fingers from her nose as she leaned forward to retrieve a half-eaten ham salad sandwich from the interface's desk.

" _Acknowledged, program ending,"_ the perfunctory tones of the A.I. emanated from the desk's speakers in response,  _"the facial recognition program is still running but has found no matches. Shall I terminate this program too?"_

"No," she declined after a moment of thought, "keep it active. I'm going to have an early night, alert my wrist device if there are any hits."

" _Shall I also forward this incoming call to your communicator?"_

Elsa blinked; surprised at the fact that someone would be trying to get into contact with her.

"What? Who is calling?"

" _Miss Astrid Hofferson."_

She blinked in surprise once more, an expression characterised by the mildly stunned opening and closing of her mouth. Why would Astrid be calling? They weren't on the  _best_  of terms…on the other hand it wasn't like they were at each other's throats. The curiosity alone, she thought, might be worth answering the communication.

"Erm…no…the main screen, please." she acquiesced, the sandwich dropped and forgotten on the floor as her hands instinctively made sure the platinum blonde bun on the back of her head was still intact and neat.

The Uni-Com's response was wordless. Almost instantly, the pulsing speech line shrank into a tiny rectangle and moved to hide in the bottom right corner of the screen, replaced by the visage of her second-in command – looking totally different from when Elsa last saw her. Astrid's golden blonde hair was no longer in a tight, military-approved bun, instead she wore long bangs that covered the left side of her forehead, along with a braid that began as a thin line from the top of her head that joined with a larger braid ponytail resting on her left shoulder, a leather band peeking out from under her bangs to finish. Slight envy prickled Elsa's chest, as combined with the hard ocean-blue eyes and the cocky smile that curled the right half of her lips, Astrid gave off a striking prettiness that complemented her brave, fierce nature.

"Astrid," Elsa cordially spoke, a polite smile attempted on her lips, "I didn't expect to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

" _Yeah, well, funny how things work out. For some weird reason I was wondering how you were so…how are you?"_ Astrid shrugged, attempting to look as indifferent as possible. Elsa's smile became a little forced, and her hands instinctively hung in front of her and entwined themselves together.

"I am fine, as can be expected. How about you?"

" _Not bad. Food's a lot better than that crap on base, it's like everything tastes new."_

"I can imagine," said Elsa, a note of tension and growing impatience in her voice, "however, I don't believe you called just to see how I was. I have things to do, Astrid, so if you'd be so kind as to get to the _real_  reason for your communication?"

Astrid scowled briefly, seemingly stung by Elsa's laser-pointed rebuke. Her shoulders rose in the way they do when the arms are folded, and her eyes exuded a veiled fire…and when she spoke, her words were laced with a brutally honest and irate tone.

" _Okay, if you insist. I think you're a single-minded, arrogant, stuck up bitch that cares about nothing but icing this Frost guy. You think I'm a brash, loud, straightforwardly axe-happy woman that just wants a good fight. We're probably both right."_

Elsa flinched a little, not enough to be visible to her second-in-command but enough for her own heart to feel a little pricked. The observation was astute, no doubt about that, but came with the precision of a laser-scalpel and the bluntness of a sledgehammer. Astrid retained her hard gaze for a few seconds, before her entire face seemed to soften, along with her voice.

" _The thing is; you're a stuck-up bitch with no family. Rapunzel, Merida and I all have our parents…but I'm guessing you're in an empty house. I may not like you as much as I should, but I do care…so…the girls and I are going out to hit a few of the Lower City bars tonight, and I wondered if you wanted to join us."_

She blinked a third time, thankful that her impassive façade hid the surprised tingles in her chest. The two had been nothing but cordial or polite, but both knew that Elsa regarded the team as nothing but a means to an end. Astrid knew it, and the other two probably were aware of the fact as well…and then for her to openly  _care?_  It definitely caused a re-evaluation of her opinion toward her team-mate…but she was not ready for that yet. In her mind, she still had a job to do.

"I…I appreciate your suggestion, Astrid, but…I will be fine. Please, enjoy your night out, and don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." Elsa refused, her own voice softening.

" _Okay. Fair enough. Thought I'd ask. See you around, Elsa."_  Astrid shrugged noncommittally, as though the refusal made no difference. Elsa looked away and prepared to wipe across the screen to end the call when her eyes fell upon the small framed photograph that magnetically hung against the wall to the left of the screen, and before she knew it she opened her mouth.

"Hey, Astrid?" she called, her arm frozen in position.

" _Yeah?"_

"Thank you…for thinking of me." she spoke, quietly and truthfully, every word intentional. Astrid nodded with a half-smile, and waved across the screen on her side to end the call. Elsa stared at the blank Uni-Com for a short while, wondering what the hell just happened…but couldn't help an odd sensation of faint warmth and a small curl of the lips.

* * *

 

 _Location: Lower City  
_ _Time: 20:45_

"You know, if the Butler keeps taking his sweet time like this, I'm gonna be too drunk to listen." Eugene groaned.

Sat in a medium-sized rectangular grey plastic booth with a clear view of the entrance, easy access to the emergency exit nestled to their left between them and an electronic dartboard, Jack couldn't help but agree. The meeting was supposed to occur ninety minutes ago, and the was-white-now-brown haired Ghost was bored with observing the comings and goings of the bar's patrons, of seeing the identical booths that adorned the wall to their right, the circular grey waist-high tables dotted around the far end of the room, the black and shudderingly sticky floor, and the shelves behind the bar staff members that supported dozens of different types of synthetic alcohol.

Not to mention the hideously bad attempts at dancing from the rather heavily inebriated patrons on the 'dance floor' ten feet away from them.

"Pace yourself, then." he sniggered, prompting a frown from his buddy.

"Ahahaha! You're funny! Has anyone ever told you you're funny? 'Cause you're  _not."_

"You love me really." Jack smirked, cocking an eyebrow as he supped his fourth beer of the night.

"Yeah, like a hole in the head."

For some time, the two men stared at each other with matching scowls, one waiting for the other to be the first to break eye contact…and, with snorted laughter and jovial arm punches, they  _both_  happily lost.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Still chuckling, both heads turned to the source of the voice, and their eyes rested upon the portly form of the man who was long overdue – the Butler, dressed in a casual grey sweater and black pants. Like Jack's choice of a black tank top and brown pants, and Eugene's black tunic, white shirt and black pants, their source was keen to blend in as mandatory Upper City clothing would have stuck out like a sore thumb. He took a seat to Jack's left, and kept his head turned away from the bar entrance.

"Well, if it isn't Captain Tardy McLaterson." Eugene snarked – and a part of him took a little pleasure in the frown that crossed the Butler's face. Evidently the verbal bombshell in the museum, delivered with brutal honesty was still an exposed nerve for the scout.

"Yes, well, travelling from my employer's home in New Arendelle often takes time. This  _is_  my home city, after all."

"Wait," Eugene waved a hand as though to say  _'back it up'_ , "you live here, but work in New Arendelle? Hell of a commute."

"Indeed. Most of my days are spent in Arendelle, though today is my day off and I often choose to spend it in this city. I used to work here for a rather prestigious family, so you could say I have a bond with this place."

Jack frowned in curiosity, "Oh? Which family? What happened?"

"Let's just say that one day my services were no longer required. In any case, shall we get to down to, how do they say, tacks of brass?" the Butler brusquely and firmly ended the line of questioning.

"Tacks of…" Jack bemusedly muttered, but was interrupted by a  _"yes, let's do that!"_ from Eugene.

"Excellent!" the portly man gently clapped his hands together, "so, what do you know of the construction far to the northwest that straddles zones one and two, what used to be Washington and Oregon?"

"Uhm, they're building another wedding cake city called New Fransokyo or something? I thought it was weird, 'cause Fransokyo was in California after all." Jack said, sipping offhandedly from his beer.

"Yes, well, given the Corona family's breakthroughs in gene therapy, cybernetic prostheses and other medical sciences, Unity elected to name New Corona after them instead. The interesting thing is: the construction has ceased." the Butler spoke, keeping his voice low as he leaned closer.

"So?" Jack shrugged as he replaced the pint glass on the table, "they probably found a glitch somewhere or some doofus cross-threaded a bolt or something."

"No, that's not the case. As you know I tend to…overhear things here, or glimpse at data tablets there. I found out that the city's construction stopped over a year ago, and the reason for that is the resources are being diverted. Worker drones, unidium plating…I'm sure you're aware that each city has its own enhanced unidium drive for power? Peculiarly, the one designed for New Fransokyo has been relocated as well, and word has it that even part of the city is being disassembled."

"Do you know where?" Jack frowned, automatically leaning closer along with Eugene to the point that three foreheads nearly touched.

"Unfortunately not – but there are no records of a new city being built, so whatever it is must be a formidable enough size to warrant the use of a city-grade power system."

"Might be worth taking a look." Eugene said as he caught Jack's eye, his brown eyebrows quirking as he spoke. Jack slowly nodded in agreement as he caught sight of three women entering the bar; the tallest one with bright blonde bangs and a braid on her shoulder, another with billowing red curls that bounced as she walked, and the third with short, slightly messy brown hair and a young, bright face. He watched as they reached the bar itself and began ordering their drinks, the blonde occasionally casting glances in their direction.

"Yeah. It could be something, could be nothing, but I'm curious. Have you any idea how the resources are being transported?"

"Now that," the Butler smiled, "I do know. There is a hover-train that departs weekly from New Fransokyo and travels to an undisclosed location, stopping once at the northern settlement in zone twenty six."

"Utah." Eugene nodded slowly.

"Precisely; I did some subtle digging and found that the next scheduled convoy is stopping there for a shift change in three days."

Jack leaned back against the firm cushioning of the rectangular booth, satisfied with the information. "Guess we're doing some detective work, Eugene. You up for it?"

"Always." the natural brown winked, saluting with his bottle of synth-beer. The Butler smiled, lightly tapped the table twice and rose to his feet, straightening his sweater as he did so.

"Well, I will be off. My wife is expecting me, I cannot keep her waiting. Godspeed, gentlemen."

Without another word, he hurried away from them, through the entrance and out of sight, leaving Jack with an odd sense of foreboding and a dash of excitement.

"The game is afoot, Watson." Jack muttered, smirking at his reference as he picked up his pint and raised it to his lips. You don't spend time around Kozmotis Pitchiner without picking up a few things.

"What game? Whose foot? Who is Watson? What are you talking about?" Eugene frowned, totally not getting it. Jack shot him a mildly incredulous glance over the rim of his glass.

"It's from an old book…Sherlock Holmes? He's a detective who…never mind." he shook his head exasperatedly, leaving his companion in a far deeper state of confusion than before.

* * *

 

"You are  _such_  a lightweight." Astrid sneered teasingly as she rested her back on the bar with her elbows draped either side while waiting for her synth-ale, her head turned to the left as she regarded Rapunzel with amused eyes.

"Hey!" the brown-haired woman retorted, "I like soda mock-vodka mixers, and we've already been to two other bars!"

"Lassie, we're off duty. Means there's nae excuse tae be sober at tha end o' tha night. I intend tae be wasted, so I'm startin' with tha whiskey…if even if it does taste like crap." Merida sniggered before sipping from her square glass of amber liquid…and promptly pulled a face.

"That's the spirit, Mer." Astrid high-fived her over Rapunzel's swiftly ducking head.

"You girls are something," the mocked woman groaned, "I'm surprised Elsa didn't come, though."

"I'm not," Astrid shrugged, "I asked, she said no. Who cares? Besides, I've found something way more interesting than Valkyrie Leader Stick-up-ass."

Rapunzel and Merida both stiffened and followed Astrid's smirking, almost aggressive gaze towards a table at the far end of the bar, where two brown-haired men sat deep in conversation as a third, bald man stood and left.

"Oh, he's cute." Rapunzel cooed.

"Which one?" Astrid asked.

"The one with the brown hair."

"They  _both_  have brown hair." the blonde groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Alright, smartass, the one with the goatee. He's all kinds of cute."

"What is it wi' you two an'  _boys?!_ " Merida growled, "Seriously, what happened tae tha meek and mild Rapunzel Corona tha I met over three years ago?"

"Two words: Valkyrie training." Rapunzel answered simply, and accepted the clink of her glass against Astrid's newly arrived synth-ale.

"Damn straight. Okay, if you're having the one with the goatee, I'll have the one with the messy hair. He's _kinda_  hot. Not my usual type, but he'll do. Let's go have some fun, ladies!" Astrid grinned in a fashion that seemed almost predatory.

"Lead the way!" Rapunzel cheered, and with an exasperated shaking of Merida's red curls, the three women pushed themselves away from the bar towards their blissfully unaware targets.

* * *

 

"It's weird. Following a supply train would be exactly the thing my team would be doing." Eugene muttered, staring wistfully into his almost empty bottle.

"Yeah, I know. How are you coping?" Jack asked, watching his comrade carefully.

"I'm better now. I still miss them, and wonder why I'm here and they're not…but I'm getting there. Thanks for asking." he smiled, and promptly scowled as Jack affectionately ruffled his hair.

"Good to know." the Ghost half-smiled. Eugene promptly stiffened as a silent thought crossed his mind, and promptly rose his bottle to the air.

"Here's to Sneak, Spooky, Grasshead and Sparky. Best bunch of crazies I ever knew – rest in peace, guys."

Both men took a sip from their drinks in respect, though while Eugene drained his bottle and rather roughly hammered it back onto the table, Jack hesitated for a moment before doing the same – and it was something that Eugene did not miss.

"You okay there, Jack?"

"I'm fine," the Ghost smiled, "I'm just…nostalgic. You remember Mulan?"

"Shit, who doesn't remember Firework?" Eugene gaped, "she's an amazing woman!"

"Yeah, she was something." Jack muttered, his face falling as he stared into his beer. Eugene didn't miss that, either.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really, but put it this way; she found me at my lowest and took me under her wing. Couple of years living on the boat, I told her I wanted to be a Ghost just like her. First thing she said was _'Jack, you're a punk and you take nothing seriously…but somehow, dammit, I'll make a man out of you'_ …and she did. Taught me everything she knew: firearms skills, hand-to-hand combat, how to fight with a staff, the works…still called me a punk, though." Jack explained, and the nostalgic smile that had been curling his lips slowly fell.

"What happened?"

"Couple of days before I became a proper Ghost, I was told that she was sent to Alliance territory on a solo intel gathering mission. She only ever radioed in once; to  _'congratulate the punk on his graduation'_ , and that she was checking out a rumour about a resistance we could liaise with. We never heard from her again, and she was considered KIA a few weeks after that."

"Tough break, huh." Eugene muttered knowingly, firmly clapping a hand on his friend's right shoulder in respect.

"Ayup. She was a great woman, fantastic friend, and an even better Ghost. I'm proud to have known her…" Jack raised his pint with a pained but prideful expression on his countenance, "…to Mulan. Hope you're giving 'em hell, wherever you are."

Eugene respectfully raised his empty bottle and clinked it with Jack's; a sign of comradeship between the two who felt the bite of loss. However, a teasing smirk crept across the scout's lips as the Ghost took a deep swig of his drink, and upon hastily swallowing he immediately questioned the expression.

"Sorry, it's just…if I didn't know better I'd say you had a  _crush_  on her, Jack." Eugene chortled, prompting an agreeing nod from his friend.

"Damn right. What can I say? I'm attracted to strong women."

"Then you're gonna love us."

The heads of both men immediately turned towards the furthest side of the booth, where the same three women that Jack observed entering the bar were stood, each clutching a drink and wearing a playful smile – except the redhead, who wore an expression of mild exasperation.

Jack took a quick moment to take in their clothing – Blonde wore a rich red top that left one shoulder exposed, a short pleated brown skirt, blue leggings and thick brown boots. Brunette wore a light pink blouse with slightly frilly shoulders and a lavender coloured medium length skirt with white heels, and Redhead wore a black t-shirt with  _Archery Club Of 2069,_  black leggings and black shin-length heeled boots, all of which designed to accentuate the vivid colour of her hair.

"Is that a fact?" Jack smirked as he leaned back against the booth, resting his arms horizontally either side of him, "and who might you ladies be?"

"I'm Astrid," the blonde answered, and gestured to the left and right of her, "this is Merida and that's Rapunzel."

"Pleasure's all mine. I'm Ja….Chris, and this is Zach. So, what brings you ladies to the table of fun?"

"Fun, huh? It didn't look that way, so we thought we'd come over and spice things up a bit." Astrid said as, without even asking, she slid into the booth and parked herself  _very_  close to Jack. Taking a cue, Rapunzel swept over to the other side of the table and slid in next to Eugene, leaving a sighing Merida to occupy the expanse next to the brunette.

Jack cast a sidelong glance at Eugene who was looking  _thoroughly_ pleased with himself at the unfolding event of three attractive women suddenly taking an interest in them…well, two of them at least, not caring that they had effectively been penned in.

"So, how is it that three Upper City ladies find themselves in a dive like this?" Jack asked, as Eugene wasted no time in engaging Rapunzel in conversation. Less than thirty seconds and he was already letting loose the 'smoulder' – though she was giving as much as she got.

"How d'ye know we're Upper City folk?" Merida asked, her eyes narrowing. Astrid seemed curious too, in the way that she half-smiled and rested her chin in her hands, observing him intently.

"Well, you don't have the pale skin that people have down here, for a start. Your arms are toned so that means exercise…and your clothes look brand new."

"You've got a good eye…" Astrid said playfully.

"Why thank you." Jack smirked as he raised his pint to his lips and took a sip.

"…I hope that's not  _all_  you've got that's good." she finished with a small lift of her eyebrows – and Jack promptly choked, drawing the attention of his friend from his deep conversation with Rapunzel.

"Wow, you're pretty straightforward." Eugene smirked, prompting an agreeing nod from the brunette.

"Well, I'm the kinda girl that doesn't mess around, especially when it comes to hitting on people. I hope you don't have a problem with that?" she said in a teasing voice, her expression and body language – especially when she shuffled just that little bit closer – telling Jack that it wouldn't matter if he  _did._

"Hell no. I like a confident girl."

"Good, 'cause that's exactly what I am, a girl who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to get it." she smiled, and emphasised the statement by reaching for Jack's pint and taking a good swig. Jack felt his ears and cheeks begin to burn as he watched her practically down what was left without even asking and replace the empty glass on the table. Eugene and Rapunzel both snorted into sniggers, and Jack heard her quietly mutter  _'that's tame for Astrid'._

"Well now, that's a bit rude," he said, "I'm gonna have some of yours as compensation."

Attempting to beat the blonde at her own game he reached over for the full pint in front of her, but was promptly stopped from his goal when she pulled it away from him and waggled her finger.

"Ah-ah. It'll cost you…"

"What?" Jack narrowed his eyes with a coy curl of his lips.

"A conversation. My friends and I are here to have some fun, and I wanna get to know the guy I want to have it  _with_." she said, her sky blue eyes regarding him as though it was a game, and she was watching to see which way he would jump.

"What makes you think I want that?" he asked as he cocked his head, leaning back against the booth and confidently spreading his arms across the back once more.

"You're not exactly telling me to go away, plus your friend Zach seems to be  _very_  interested in Rapunzel." she said, inclining her head to the left with a pointed glance for emphasis. Jack's eyes followed the gesture, and chuckled when he saw how animatedly Eugene and Rapunzel were talking with each other, the nigh unbreakable grin on the scout's face and how both pairs of cheeks seemed to be just that little bit flushed.

The confident and suave man who hid the baggage of survivor's guilt was now happily and exuberantly chatting away with the bright-looking woman who – judging by how her gaze never left him as they talked, laughed and how she was constantly fiddling with her cropped brown hair – was as into him as he was into her, and it had only been ten minutes.

In a strange way, Jack was struck with the distinct impression that the two brunettes were almost meant to meet in such a way and strike up a conversation, and in an even more peculiar way, he wasn't bothered in the slightest that he was effectively being ignored.

"So, what do you think?"

Jack's eyes moved back to Astrid, who was resting her left elbow on the table and her chin in her left hand, gazing at him with obvious interest.

"I dunno. You're not exactly my type." he smirked, quirking an eyebrow as he awaited her reaction, which was a moderate nudge in the arm with her right fist.

"And you're not mine…but that doesn't mean anything, if you catch my drift…" she responded suggestively.

"Oh, so it's like that?"

"It's like that."

Jack's eyes narrowed in that way when you're debating which fork in the road to take; the left road being a quiet night – sans Eugene, probably – where there is no danger of your identity being revealed…and the other a night of no-strings fun and risk with an admittedly attractive woman, and with a smirk, he chose his path as he slid her glass away from her, took a healthy swig and, with a challenging smack of his lips…

"I'm in."

* * *

 

After a couple of hours of light but informative conversation, in which many laughs were shared – more than a few at Eugene's expense and a couple at Rapunzel's – and in which quite a few rounds of booze had been consumed – and shared – the mood in the booth was lively, playful, and a little bit too merry. Eugene spent most of his time in such deep conversation with Rapunzel that he effectively forgot about Jack's existence – which, oddly, the Ghost didn't mind for two reasons. One, the scout actually looked  _happy_. Rather than the emptiness and grief that lived in his brown eyes since the museum visit, there was a blinding twinkle that Jack suspected only Rapunzel could elicit…and for that reason, he was perfectly content to leave the scout to it.

The other reason was he was preoccupied with the confident, loud and occasionally brash blonde to his left. Though he felt no deep attraction to her beyond the obvious physical desire he couldn't deny that he was enjoying the attention – needless to say, he counted his lucky stars that he left his bracer and staff at home, seeing no need for it.

Truth be told, she was very good at invading his personal space by sitting flush against him, brushing her hand against his on occasion, fiddling with her braid, and was also fairly transparent with her flirtatious overtures to the point that Jack – though effortlessly matching her advances flirt-for-flirt, felt a little trapped and needed a get-out clause – and it came in the form of his wingman.

"So, Merida," Eugene loudly spoke, gathering everyone's attention, "I see you're a member of an archery club."

"That better be tha only place yer lookin', laddie." the red-head scowled, pointing a threatening finger at him. Eugene put a hand on his chest in mild shock, dropping his jaw in mock offense.

"Would I be so  _crude_?"

"Yes."

Jack's simple and deadpan reply as he stole another sip of his seventh beer elicited snorts of laughter from the entire table, oddly including the tempestuous Merida. The scout shot a glare at the smirking Jack, before returning his attention to the red-head.

"Ignore my esteemed friend. Anyway, I propose a bet: us boys versus you girls, game of darts. Winner buys the next round."

"Wait," Jack held up a finger, "you mean I have to wait until you get your ass kicked to get another drink? What kind of bet is that?"

"You know what?" Astrid added, "He's right, that's a crappy bet. How about…" she tapped her finger against her chin, and Jack caught a rather pointed exchange of glances between her and Rapunzel, "…if you win, we have a dance and at the end of the night we go our separate ways."

"…and if  _you_  win?" Jack asked, though the veiled come-hither look in Astrid's eyes was a silent clue.

"We dance, and continue the night at home, if you know what I mean."

Jack suddenly felt a rising heat in his cheeks at odds with the blood rushing elsewhere – Eugene, however, looked like his birthday had come early.

"Wait, yer askin' me tae win so ye can have yer booty call?" Merida gaped incredulously.

"Oh come on, we all know that beating men is your idea of a good time, Mer. Please?" Rapunzel pleaded, accompanied with pointed nods from Eugene. Jack glanced between the scout and the redhead and wondered in bemusement at whether he walked into a parallel dimension where Eugene was reduced to an excited and horny schoolboy.

"No!"

" _Please?_ " Rapunzel persisted, pouting and pulling quite possibly the most adorable expression in existence.

"Oh no, no, no-no-no, don't ye dare do tha puppy dog eyes!" Merida threatened, balling her hand into a fist and brandishing it imperiously – but Rapunzel was unfazed and continued to wear down her friend's defences with the barrage of cuteness.

"Tch,  _fine_." she groaned as she rose from her seat and, with grumbling irritation, walked off to the bar to request the darts. Rapunzel and Eugene swiftly followed suit, electing to wait by the electronic dartboard while her companion rapped her finger impatiently against the plastic drinks servery, leaving a merry Astrid and Jack alone in the booth.

"You know," he smirked as he spoke in a tone of mock-eloquence, "all this talk of one night stands and continuing the night at home…anybody would think Miss Hofferson, daughter of the influential weapons producing family, didn't care for the state-selected-and-approval-only spousal law or the discouragement of sex as recreation."

"I told you before," Astrid rolled her eyes as she administered another punch to his arm; "this is a one-off thing. I think you're hot, I _know_  you think I'm hot, we're not each other's type…we both wanna get laid…I'm not gonna let some stuffy government law get in the way of some good fun."

" _If_  you win," Jack teased as he adjusted his position to sit facing her with his left arm draped across the back rest, "because I'm picking Zach to play. You're going  _down_ , Astrid."

"Maybe I am," she smiled at him, and then leaned closer to murmur huskily in his ear, "maybe  _you_  are. We'll just have to see who goes down first, won't we?"

"You know, you're really making it…hard…to wait and find out who wins when you talk like that…" he said as he turned his head towards her, their lips close enough to feel each other's warm breath. It was either the fuzz of the many beers he consumed or the close proximity to passion and lust, but he felt his brain take an increasingly distant backseat to the unfolding moment – and then completely vacated his skull when she glanced down at his tightening crotch and back up with a smirk.

"So I see," she murmured teasingly, "but though I'm impatient to get out of here, I want to dance. So…you are going to wait while I pick a song, got it?"

The question was largely pointless as she promptly followed up the pseudo-order by taking a handful of his tank top with her right hand, yanking him forward and pressing a lustful kiss onto his parted and stunned lips. Initially taken completely aback by the surprise attack on his mouth, Jack's brain re-engaged – albeit in a totally different mode – and placed his left hand at the back of her head to deepen the kiss, his lips moving at one with hers…and judging the quiet  _'mmm'_  that was uttered, she didn't mind that one bit. Eventually – and reluctantly – she was the one to pull away, though made a point of keeping her lips less than three inches from his as she regarded him with a lidded gaze.

"Mmm, that was something. Be right back, I wanna see if the rest of that body can keep up with that mouth of yours." she murmured, and then pushed him back as she moved to slide across the booth's long bench, walk past the unfolding game of darts and head to the Uni-Com that doubled as the music system on the other side of the bar, stopping once to high-five a grinning Rapunzel on the way.

Jack sat for a moment in stunned awe, blinking numbly as he rode out the thunderous heartbeat in his chest and savoured the tingling of his lips. Hell of an impression to make, and he would freely admit that her directness was definitely refreshing.

Movement from the dartboard area caught his eye, and he glanced up from staring vacantly at the table to spot a gleeful Eugene smirking at him with an expression that screamed  _'you dog'_  – so, with the slight mockery in the scout's face re-energising his brain, Jack too shuffled out of the booth and briefly joined his friend, who was stood opposite the two women and equalising Merida's score with perfect accuracy.

"Fuck me, she doesn't hold back." Jack muttered so only Eugene could hear as he glanced back over at Astrid, who was audibly ranting at the lack of diversity in the Uni-Com's song library.

"Damn, dude. It must really suck for you to have a hot woman like Astrid into you like that, and be so obvious about it as well."

"Shut the fuck up, _Zach_." Jack hissed, connecting the palm of his right hand with the back of the scout's head – which didn't faze him in the slightest, especially as it was his turn to throw.

"No, really! I mean, there's a broad that has pretty much made it clear she wants some no-strings action with you. I feel for you... _Chris_. You have my utmost sympathies for your  _dire_  situation." Eugene continued the barrage of sarcasm, with a hand over his heart for flavour as he moved over to the line situated seven feet away from the dartboard and tossed the first dart without even looking, prompting a gasp of  _"how tha hell did ye hit a treble-twenty again?!"_ from Merida and a reply of  _"well you're not exactly holding back either, Mer"_  from Rapunzel.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Me? I've got an amazingly pretty woman as interested in me as I am in her, who has a great personality and a beautiful laugh to boot. What do  _you_ think?" Eugene finished, shooting the Ghost an ' _are-you-kidding-me'_  look as he tossed the second dart, the happy beeps of the electronic dartboard indicating his fifth treble-twenty of the night.

"I think you purposely said that loud enough for Rapunzel to hear." Jack said with his eyebrows raised, one glance at Rapunzel's fiercely blushing cheeks confirming his suspicion.

"Maybe I did. Oh, just so you know – I'll be throwing this match. Can't pass up a good thing by  _winning_." he muttered almost inaudibly as he tossed the last dart with perfect accuracy, thereby reducing the boys' score to one hundred and forty one.

"I figured you would…just don't show off too much, okay? Pretty sure you've been hitting the high scores all the time." was the Ghost's urgent whisper.

"Yeah, well Red over there isn't exactly a slouch. She's been as accurate as I have…and the weird thing is, every time her darts hit the board, the little lights and score counter seem to flicker like there's a power surge coming…"

Eugene's quiet point was proven when, amidst cheers of  _"go Merida, go go!"_  the irritable red-head took her place at the line and hit three perfect double-twenties – and the little blinking bulbs that surrounded the circular board all flickered uncontrollably, before settling back down to their usual regimented pattern.

"Meh," Jack shrugged, "we  _are_  in the Lower City. Maintenance and repair drones aren't exactly common around here."

"Yeah, it figures," Eugene said noncommittally…and promptly sniggered as a loud bass rhythm resounded around the bar, startling many of the patrons and garnering an exasperated smile from Merida's lips, "now  _that_  is a dirty beat. You're in for a good time, my esteemed friend."

Jack was about to agree with the 'dirtiness' of the rhythm and tempo, and furthermore remark on its moderate similarity to a song in his iPod library – and thus the unoriginality of Unity-approved musicwhen he felt a hand grasp the back of his tank top and forcefully yank him backwards onto the empty space that constituted a dancefloor, and before he knew it the slightly shorter Astrid was dancing in front of him, a smug narrow-eyed smirk upon her countenance as she held her arms above her head and swayed along with the beat.

"You don't mess around, do you?" Jack said loudly as he shook his head in bewilderment.

"Nope! Told you what was gonna happen, so you'd better start dancing!" she called back, and to emphasise the point she swirled around, grasped his hands to wrap them around her abdomen and swayed her hips against him, lust and alcohol fuelling their advances.

From there Jack just let her call the shots, content to follow rather than lead. He was too busy enjoying the feel of her body under his fingertips anyway, remarking to himself how her movements seemed to be in perfect synchronicity with the loud and immersive rhythm, like a musical call to a physical conclusion – and was surprised by her appropriate choice of perfume: sweet, yet punchy. When she pressed her back against him, stroked her left hand down his hip and the other across the right side of his face, moving as one seductive, dancing being, he could smell it floating from her exposed neck and right shoulder.

"You know," he murmured close to her neck, his breath against her skin causing a parting of her lips and an instantaneous rough grip of the hairs on the back of his head, "I know you're a Hofferson…but I never asked what you did for a living…"

She chuckled, closing her eyes as she entwined her left hand with his and ran it slowly down her hip, "…does it matter?"

"Well…you know I'm a support column maintenance techie…it's only fair that you tell me what you do…"

"Well, if I tell you…I might have to kill you…" she teased, and then turned around within his embrace to wrap her arms around his neck and gaze at him with an expression Jack could only define as hungry – not love, not emotional attraction, just…desire.

"I'll take that chance…" he said, throwing in a quirked eyebrow and a challenging smirk for good measure.

Astrid's lips mimicked his, with a slight biting of her lower lip offering the only difference, and after a few seconds she made her decision. She learned close enough for Jack to feel her hot breath against his ear, sending pleasurable shudders down his spine – but the three words she spoke turned that shiver into something altogether different.

Something that twisted his stomach into a lead-filled knot and turned the shudders into chills so potent that even the kiss on his cheek that followed her answer was barely registered in his alarmed mind.

"I'm a Valkyrie."

* * *

  _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS): **02:16:23:05:13**_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Wait, no I'm not. Yes, Jastrid is a crackship of mine, but Jelsa is my OTP. Plus, the tags kinda give it away. However, if the idea of Astrid kissing Jack makes you squeamish...you might not wanna tune in to Part Two. Just sayin'.
> 
> Next up: Beware of what skitters in the cold and dark.


	13. Into the Dark: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this chapter length (over 10k words...yeesh).

_Location: Southeast Greenland_   
_Date: September 4th, 2073_   
_Time: 21:45_

 

The village of Ittoqqortoormiit, with its wooden homes painted in red, blue or yellow that dotted a gentle north east incline from the moderately rocky coast, was the same as all the other settlements that Hiccup, Kozmotis and Toothless visited in the two days since they landed in Greenland, and it did little to assuage the feeling of isolation and eerie foreboding that settled in the rider's gut ever since they visited the first town of Narsaq and moved on to the surrounding villages that dotted the sprawling, convoluted land masses that constituted the west and southern coast in search of clues that would lead them to the ruined facility.

The reason for the creepy sensation was Ittoqqortoormiit was, like all the other locations of civilisation, completely and utterly void of life – a ghost town, in essence.

Sure, there were a few instances of polar bears wandering from their normal hunting areas in search of food and coming too close for comfort to the band of three – each time that happened, Toothless promptly scared them off with an intimidating display of growling, roaring, and spread wings to boot – but for all intents and purposes Greenland was empty of human life.

It made for the perfect hiding place for the fifteen-hundred strong community of hunted abnormals, that much was clear, but that was only if they could find the elusive facility itself that would lead them to the even  _more_  elusive subterranean complex hidden beneath it…and that proved to be a harder task than they originally anticipated.

Which meant Hiccup's confident, sanguine and indomitable optimism was tempered with the repeated failure to find any concrete clues, and the paradoxical loneliness and spooky uncertainty that came with the knowledge that the two Ghosts could be the only humans in the entire country.

Yet…the awareness of that garnered a semblance of peace within the messy chocolate-haired man's heart – aside from Kristoff and Neve, no-one knew they were there. There were no nearby bases, and no patrols they would be forced to either neutralise or avoid.

No Valkyries.

In that moment, Hiccup felt  _free_ ; and it was a sensation that he hoped every one of his kind would be able to share in the future, which brought a comforted smile to his face as, perched on his rucksack, he used a stick to poke at the happily crackling campfire that Toothless dutifully ignited in the northern edge of the village, turning the two trout impaled on a spit into a delicious shade of brown.

"Why do you do that?" came the inimitable English drawl from the opposite side of the camp fire, breaking the thoughtful silence.

Hiccup paused as he glanced over the flames at his comrade, who was laid casually upon the ground with his head resting against his own rucksack as his eyes – like two orbs of gold intensified to an eerie degree by the fire's glow – scrutinized every inch of the unfolded paper map resting on his drawn-up legs.

"Do what?"

"Poke the fire like that."

"What's wrong with a little poking?" Hiccup raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing, I suppose. I just thought that you were wasting your energy – Toothless can always reignite the fire if it dies down." Kozmotis finished casually.

Hiccup's gaze travelled left and rested upon the scaly, mildly feline form of his best friend who was curled up and snoozing by the fire, the tail-fins that covered his nose shuddering with every loud exhalation from his snout. He chuckled as the dragon-like creature snorted, murmured something cute and unintelligible, then with a drawn out crunching he rolled onto his back with his legs protruding hilariously in the air, completely and utterly asleep.

"I wanna keep this fire going as long as I can so I don't have to wake him up. He's had a busy couple of days." he shrugged, prompting a series of happy crackles as he poked the burning embers a little more.

"True, but you know the smell of cooking fish will make him stir."

"That's different; it's a nice thing to wake up to. Anyway, subject change – how are we looking?"

Kozmotis folded the top and left sides of the map over and held it in his left hand as, with a tired grunt, he used his back to hoist himself up to his feet and, taking time to turn the fish, promptly walked over to squat beside the rider, holding the map between them. Using the glow of the flames that cut a swathe of light into the darkened village, Hiccup's eyes traced over several red crosses that indicated where they found nothing, a red circle on the south east coast, and lines connecting them all into a convoluted, zig-zagged pattern.

"We are here," he said as he pointed to the circle, "the name of which I won't even try to pronounce – and north of here is an area that  _could_  be where the facility was located before it was destroyed."

"Okay," Hiccup cocked his head, "but why are we only searching the coastal places?"

"Simple. Greenland can only be accessed by air or sea, and the facility – ostensibly, the subterranean complex too – would have relied on aircraft or ships for its supplies and equipment-"

"-which means it needed to be near a runway. That makes sense."

"Indeed; coastal settlements with runways are the most likely places near which the facility would have been situated. We've already searched the western coast by air and found nothing – Ittoqqo-whatsit is the last place on the list." Kozmotis said, nodding as he folded the map until it was a fraction of its normal size and slipped it into the breast pocket of his utility vest.

"Not to mention the fact that the climate further inland will give you frostbite on your spleen…" Hiccup drawled with the hint of a sarcastic groan.

"Well, I thought that went without saying." Kozmotis said quietly, with half a smirk of condescension, prompting an elbow jab and a small chuckle from the rider.

"Smartass," he groaned, but the chortling swiftly dwindled as an unwelcome thought crossed his mind, "what if we don't find it…the underground base, I mean?"

Kozmotis sighed as he slumped back onto the seat of his pants, rested his elbows on his knees to lace his slender grey hands together, and frowned thoughtfully into the fire.

"Then we're shit out of luck."

Hiccup fought to stave off the ball of uncertainty that landed in his stomach at Kozmotis' words, as well as the thoughts of striking out on the last try and reporting back to the  _Star_  that it was all a wild goose chase, that there was no subterranean facility and that the hopes of their kin to find a place for them to grow, survive – and more importantly, be free – were for nothing. He was confident in Kozmotis' ability to find the complex and even more confident in his ability to get it up and running should it be required.

His father Stoick always taught him to strive for the good, to defend what is just and fight for what is right – and no matter what,  _never_  give up hope…and it was a personal code that Hiccup lived by. Finding the elusive underground base was exactly what he and his kind needed, and for that reason he had insurmountable faith.

The delicious smell of cooked food slowly caressed his nose, and with the immediate rumble of his stomach reinforcing the knowledge that it was time to eat, Hiccup exhaled deeply as he pushed against his knees in order to stand upright, and carefully stepped over to the improvised spit. One quick check of the browned food confirmed his suspicions, so he carefully lifted the two long sticks suspending the trout from the supporting metal rods on either side of the fire, and breathed in the delectable scent of his culinary victory.

"Well, I don't know about you," he smirked as he spoke with a confident tone, holding one of the sticks over to his comrade, "but I'm feeling lucky."

"You always were an insufferable optimist, Haddock." Kozmotis drawled as he slowly shook his head in mild exasperation and upon rising awkwardly to his feet, he reached over to grasp the offered stick.

For a time, the two men stood in thoughtful silence as they carefully ate, relishing the smoky taste of campfire-cooked trout, and Hiccup's thoughts in particular were of the ruined facility and the hopefully successful locating of the nearby complex, and what it could mean for his kind.

Toothless, who had evidently been roused by the enticing smell, sniffed as he began to stir from his sleep, and kept sniffing the air as though it was an involuntary action, even as he inelegantly and haphazardly rolled over onto his feet and silently crept the few paces towards the source of the seemingly irresistible scent – amusingly, not once did the creature open his eyes, choosing instead to keep them closed in order to savour the scent.

"Oh, so you want  _my_  food, huh?" Hiccup grinned as his buddy's eyes snapped open, his snout a mere foot away from his rider's food. Toothless nodded vigorously with a goofy, gummy beam on his dragon-like mouth, his tongue stuck helplessly out for added effect.

Kozmotis, sensing his dinner was in potential danger, shot Toothless a scowl as he chose to return to his rucksack and lowered himself onto it, casting a glance to his right to make sure his G36 assault rifle was still in arms reach in case of any nearby predators.

"Sorry, buddy. This is mine…" Hiccup shrugged apologetically and, holding his fish aloft, approached his rucksack and bent over it to retrieve one of the six raw trout they caught earlier in the day.

"But this," he teased, holding it by the tail as he wiggled it temptingly, "is yours. Ready?"

Toothless dropped down low with his waggling hindquarters in the air, like a cat in the brief seconds before it pounces, and with all his strength Hiccup revolved on his left foot, carried the momentum and threw the fish into the dark – and was nearly knocked over by an overly excitable dragon in his haste to reach his quarry.

Hiccup smiled and shook his head in amusement before once more tucking into the impaled trout, only to hear the sounds of paws bounding towards him and feel the rather eager nudging of Toothless' snout against his arm.

"Already?!"

Another fish went on an impromptu flight, and then another one.

…then  _another_  one.

Toothless would scamper off and disappear into the veil of imposing darkness surrounding the fire, and return each time having swallowed his treat whole, wearing a goofy grin on his scaly countenance and dilated pupils of child-like happiness as he waited for his rider to send the next fish on its way, and after about sixty seconds of fetch – Hiccup purposefully delayed some throws so he could at least grab a bite from  _his_  dinner – there were only two trout left.

"You ready?" he whispered. Toothless gave him a vigorously goofy set of nods, so with his four-legged companion's sign of readiness in mind Hiccup turned and threw the penultimate trout with all his might in a completely different direction than before – north east instead of due north. The scaly beast bounded off in pursuit of his airborne treat, his natural obsidian colour effortlessly melting him into the surrounding dark.

"I always thought he was a complicated creature…" Kozmotis mused as he tossed the remnants of his food into the fire with one hand and wiped his mouth with the other.

"Huh?" Hiccup frowned for an explanation.

"Well, here is a…what  _you_ call a dragon, whose breath can punch through the hull of a drop ship like it was butter, who can fly almost as fast as Jack at top speed and, when sufficiently angered, is a delightfully fearsome creature possessing an intelligence beyond most animals…and you're effectively playing  _fetch_  with him."

"What can I say?" Hiccup grinned as he bent over to retrieve the final trout, "the big guy likes to play, am I right, buddy?"

His grinning head turned to the right, expecting to see the expectant creature bouncing eagerly and waiting impatiently beside him for the last fish...and felt his stomach clench when he noticed Toothless was not there. Nothing but darkness and silence from the world around him, no obsidian black winged lizard to snatch the fish dangling uselessly from his rider's hand.

"Buddy?" he called out into the village.

There was still no response.

"Hey, Toothless, where are you?"

The unearthly quiet continued its soundless barrage on Hiccup's ears, mind and heart, and for a moment-slash-eternity, he felt exposed, defenceless and  _vulnerable_. It was enough to alert the usually apathetic Kozmotis, who quickly picked up his G36 as he scrambled to his feet, shouldering the assault rifle and scanning the impenetrable veil before them.

"Think something got him?" he asked the obvious question.

"No, he's too good for that." was Hiccup's equally obvious, yet uncertain answer.

"Right. Which way did you throw the fish?"

"That way," the rider pointed to the north-east, "towards that incline we saw before it got dark."

Kozmotis nodded his acknowledgement, and immediately slung the strap of his rifle over his right shoulder as his left fingers worked to unclip his goggles from his belt.

"Okay. Get your backpack and put on your goggles. I will kill the fire, and we'll go looking for him." he spoke quietly.

"Why don't we just go now and come back for our stuff?" Hiccup hissed impatiently as he darted over to retrieve his rucksack, slung it onto his back, and picked up his P90 from the ground.

"Because I have a feeling there's more to this than meets the eye."

Hiccup didn't need telling twice, the urge to find his friend was too strong. It was dark, the night was cold to the tune of four degrees Celsius – neither of them really noticed due to the camp fire – and Toothless was out there alone…just like he was when Hiccup found him in the ramshackle family barn that night.

So, naturally, upon Kozmotis' retrieval of his own rucksack and the dousing of the fire with a spray of black sand, Hiccup promptly slipped the goggles over his eyes, set them to night vision with a verbal command, firmly gripped the bullpup handles of the P90 and began the short climb up the north east slope of the village.

Needless to say – he was the one to take point, with Kozmotis watching his six.

* * *

  _Time: 22:30_

 

The crunch of the coarse stone ground under two pairs of feet was the only thing Hiccup heard between his worried yells of his best friend's name, and in the thirty minutes it took for the Ghosts to ascend the slope and reach the apex of the north eastern hill, the deathly silence along with the green night-vision tinted nothingness that greeted him combined the clenching of his stomach with an uncomfortable nausea.

It wasn't like Toothless to disappear without a word – well, aside from the one time that Hiccup accidentally lost his mask while on a fishing run.

"Toothless!" he shouted once more into the night, hoping that this time he would receive an answer. A yelp, a growl, he'd even take an angry roar…anything to let him know that his dragon-like friend was okay.

"Can you see anything?" Kozmotis asked breathlessly from somewhere to his left, his goggled eyes scanning left and right.

"No," Hiccup shook his head, "I'd be surprised if I could. He blends too well into the dark."

"Have you tried infra-red?"

"Won't work. He's cold blooded, so with the temperature being as cold as a Valkyrie's heart-"

His unfavourable and frustrated response was cut short by a sound; one that he so desperately wanted to hear, yet sent a chill of anxiety through the rider's spine – a feral roar of pure anguish.

"Toothless…" he breathed, and without a second thought he sprang into action and ungainly ran down the other side of the hill towards the source of the roar, less than a quarter of a mile to their northeast. The sounds of his urgent breaths and the crunching of stone underfoot were the only things that the rider heard as he scrambled down, and it was as his boots reached level ground that he saw it – a line of faintly glowing lights that were slightly larger and brighter at one end…and they moved.

He didn't even need to practically shout at his goggles to return to normal vision to know what it was, though he did it anyway – it was Toothless' characteristic blue glow that traced across his tail, spine and head that  _only_ appeared whenever he was angry, defensive or in battle.

"Toothless!" he yelled, and the smaller sprinkles of blue sharply turned in his direction, barely visible against the dead of night. Thinking quickly, Hiccup switched on the P90-mounted flashlight and pointed it in the direction of the faint glow – and felt his heart briefly stall.

Toothless was there, alright, but he was…different. Illuminated by the circular beam of white light, his lizard-like expression danced between anger and fear, his pupils constricted to thin slits. As Hiccup practically stumbled closer to him, he saw the dragon tense and back away, the left side of his mouth receding to reveal sharp teeth as he growled menacingly.

"Toothless…" Hiccup breathed as he released his right hand from the P90's handle and reached towards him, "it's me, buddy! It's just me, why are you so afraid?"

The dragon lunged forward and snapped a little at the outstretched fingers, not close enough to harm but enough to make a point – one well received judging by how reflexively the fingers darted back. Kozmotis, having caught up, also switched on his mounted flashlight and pointed it at the four-legged beast, and Hiccup didn't need to hear the defensive snarl nor the near-thunderous click of the G36's safety to know that the beam of light wasn't the only thing pointed at his best friend.

"Koz…stand down." he muttered quietly, his eyes remaining firmly locked upon the angry green orbs four feet away from him as the palms of his hands shot up in a stopping gesture, one to his friend and the other to his squad-mate, the heavy P90 now dangling uselessly from a clip on his utility vest.

"No."

"Kozmotis, don't. He's not dangerous…he's just…scared."

"He could kill you." the taller Ghost muttered through gritted teeth.

"He could kill  _both_  of us before you even got a shot off. Trust me, he won't. He won't hurt us…you just need to put the gun down and let me do this." Hiccup calmly replied. He heard a disbelieving exhalation from his left and prayed that his words were enough – as Toothless looked as though he was seconds from lashing out and ripping them apart.

"How do you know, Hiccup?"

"Because he looks as scared as he was when I first found him, so  _please…let me do this."_

Kozmotis exhaled loudly through his nose, and Hiccup felt a flood of relief in his gut when he heard the rifle's safety being clicked on and the crunch of footsteps backing away – though he did hear the unclipping of the flashlight from the rifle.

"Fine, but I'm keeping the torch on."

"Good," Hiccup breathed, "that helps, actually."

He heard a quiet  _"huh?"_ from his left, which was followed by a summarily ignored  _"what are you doing?"_  when he unclipped the P90 and tossed to the ground a good distance away from him. Toothless' watchful eyes followed the descent of the weapon until it hit the stony ground, then snapped right back at him.

"It's me, buddy. You  _know_  me. I would  _never_  hurt you." Hiccup soothed, keeping his right hand toward the beast – which growled defensively in response but did not back away. Hiccup took this as a sign of progress, and carefully inched a step towards him.

"It's okay, Toothless. I don't know what's got you so spooked, but I'm here now. It's okay."

Toothless' growls dwindled in volume and Hiccup could see his scaly body start to relax, but the eyes were still ones of fearful anger and the teeth were still decidedly bared. Slowly but surely, he was getting through to him.

He took another step, putting his hand within a foot of Toothless' snout…and well within lunging range. No turning back now; he would either succeed, or add an arm to the list of lost limbs.

"I'm your best friend. You  _know_  me."

In slowly dawning recognition, Toothless' eyes widened a little bit along with the dilating of his pupils, and his characteristic blue glow began to dwindle and abate. The rider was almost there.

"You  _know_  me. Best friends forever, remember?"

Then, it happened.

Toothless' expression swiftly changed to one of almost mortified recognition, and rather than press his snout against Hiccup's outstretched hand, he surged forward and buried his entire head in the Ghost's chest. Almost knocked over by the surprise movement, Hiccup was momentarily winded when the hard skull connected with his ribcage, but it didn't matter at all. He had his best friend back.

"There you go," he wheezed as one hand instinctively went to rest against the dragon's head, "told you it was me. What got you so spooked, buddy?"

"I think I know."

Both heads turned towards Kozmotis, whose flashlight swung away from the reunited pair and settled upon a strangely ordered line of rocks ten feet behind Toothless' tail, and it took Hiccup a few seconds to realise that the formation was not naturally occurring.

"He found the facility…" he breathed.

"…or what's left of it."

Hiccup quickly retrieved his P90 and joined Kozmotis in following the trail, the beam of light emanating from his weapon revealing line after line of broken rocks and melted objects, the decades of remaining untouched by man since the cruise missile strike creating an environment of overgrown, unkempt grass and wild hardy plants. Kozmotis branched to the left while Hiccup went right, both men curious as to the size of the sprawling ex-facility and keen to find clues as to its purpose…

…and hopefully find the entrance to a subterranean base.

Throughout the exploration Toothless remained very close to his rider, enough to accidentally nudge into him on occasion, and Hiccup could only feel concerned as to his best friend's state of mind. Whatever was here now, or happened in the past was enough to freak out the usually resilient beast – and that was something that did  _not_  sit well with him.

* * *

  _Time: 23:00_

 

Fifteen minutes of exploration yielded a few clues, but nothing that would discern the facility's purpose; a few gas canisters here, melted tables there – and something which Kozmotis mentioned as  _"exceptionally curious"_ , the shattered and half liquefied remains of an isolation glove box. Hiccup knew for a fact those were only used for dealing with hazardous and infectious substances…and it did  _not_  help him in suppressing the eerie foreboding in his stomach.

However, they did get an idea as to the size of the facility – moderate, but enough to hide within the small valley between the hill they scrambled down and another, taller one to the north.

"So, kids, what did we learn today?" Hiccup groaned in a manner that was distinctly a Frost-brand of sarcasm, when they finally linked up at the eastern edge of the ruins.

"I found a few oxygen and liquid nitrogen canisters, and a few more of those glove boxes, but nothing beyond that. All I can guess is that they were either creating or storing something here…but after fifty years of natural growth..." Kozmotis sighed; shrugging in veiled defeat as he lazily drew the flashlight beam in a vaguely southern direction.

"Yeah, pretty much the same with me…and it still doesn't explain why Toothless got so scared. Although when I think about it…definitely getting an old school, cliché, sleeping evil kind of vibe." Hiccup said in a manner of morbid amusement as, to punctuate the point, he shone the flashlight under his chin and contorted his features into an ugly mask of horror.

"Normally I would say you have an overly active imagination…but I'm inclined to agree."

"You would, Mr Tall, Dark and Scary. Okay, screw this – Toothless is getting antsier by the minute judging by how hard he kept nudging me earlier, so…I'm going back."

Hiccup felt a gentle nudge in his right arm, which he took as thanks from his buddy, and with the beam of light shining their way, the party walked east from the ruins and onto the long valley that cut a path north from Ittoqqortoormit.

The search would have ended there and resumed in the morning, had Hiccup's boots not made a sound altogether different from the usual coarse rock they had been stepping on. Their steps were thudding, hard, and echoed throughout the small valley and into the mountains beyond them to the east. He had been so focused on trying to work out Toothless' erratic behaviour and simultaneously making sure to keep a comforting hand on his head that he barely registered the difference, until he mused silently to himself in an offhand manner that it sounded uncannily like the flight deck of the  _Guardian Star_.

The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, and he froze in his tracks so suddenly that Kozmotis walked straight into his back, nearly knocking the both of them over.

"What the hell, Haddock?" the taller Ghost hissed, and Hiccup could  _feel_  the irritated glare on the back of his head along with the flashlight's beam.

"Asphalt." was the simple explanation.

"What the…what are you talking about?"

"Didn't you notice we're walking on the same stuff on the  _Star_ 's flight deck, and have been for five minutes?" he said as he shone his flashlight at the ground – and the smooth, untouched surface of fifty-years-undisturbed grey asphalt confirmed his suspicion of a man-made road.

He felt a breeze of cold air kiss the left side of his face as Kozmotis silently swept past, his own light carving a circle into the black ground as he walked straight ahead, paused in the middle of the road, and heard the loud hiss that accompanies the blinding spark of an ignited white flare – evidently Kozmotis was growing frustrated with the pitiful illumination offered by the mounted flashlight.

"This way heads further inland," the smooth tones of the flare-wielding Ghost rang out clear in the night as he pointed to where the road led northeast, and then jerked his thumb behind him to finish, "and this way takes us back to the village."

"Well, then I guess we should…" Hiccup trailed off as he cast Toothless a knowing smirk, who narrowed his catlike green eyes in response.

"Don't say it." Kozmotis warned, adopting a similar expression to Toothless as he gestured threateningly with the flare while Hiccup sauntered past, with an oddly exasperated and embarrassed dragon in tow. It didn't work, as with a sing-song voice…

"Follow the yellow brick road! Follow the yellow brick road! Follow-follow-follow-follow…"

Hiccup snorted into cackles as he promptly broke into a jog away from the flare-wielding Ghost, the sounds of mirth the only sign of his existence as he and Toothless melted into the dark, knowing full well that Kozmotis was probably too incredulous to speak.

"That's it!" he heard a yell from behind him, which widened the mirthful grin even more, "no more  _Wizard of Oz_  movie nights for you!"

Hiccup's cackles became outright laughter – Jack was right, teasing the usually grouchy Kozmotis was hilariously rewarding and productive, especially when a louder shout rang through the air that only deepened his laughter.

"It's not even yellow!"

Hiccup's amused chortles carried on for a long time, even when he saw the darkness around him receding that only meant Kozmotis finally caught up with him, and intensified when he caught sight of the antagonised scowl on the Ghost's grey-skinned countenance. For a good ten minutes of walking, not even the embarrassed nudges of Toothless' head against his left shoulder would make him shut up.

"You're still not funny." the slender man groaned.

What  _did_  kill the laughter, along with catch his breath and widen both his jaw and eyes in stunned amazement, was what the flare illuminated when they followed the road as it curved to the right, into the face of a mountain.

"Woah…"

Carved into the rock, a huge, semi-circular heavy duty double doorway stood like an immovable block, with black and yellow warning stripes down either side of where the doors met and along the bottom where the wheels would undoubtedly rotate to open it. Painted in the same near-black colour as the mountain itself, it was easily wide enough to comfortably allow two hover-trucks to pass by with space either side to fit two people standing abreast, and  _DELTA SITE_ adorned either side of the door in faded while lettering.

"We found it…" Hiccup breathed, the sense of victory and relieved pride washing over him like a warm tide. For a moment, he wanted to whoop and jump around like it was his birthday…but restrained himself to a mere grin.

 _Sanctuary_.

"We found the door. The  _closed_  door, I might add." Kozmotis corrected.

"Well thank you very much, Mr Buzzkill." Hiccup groaned sarcastically, prompting a series of low  _hur-hur-hurs_  to slip from Toothless' mouth.

"Oh hush, Haddock. Go and find the door controls." the weary man snapped, and tossed the now dwindling flare to the right of the door. Allowing himself to indulge in a snigger, Hiccup sauntered over to the left side of the huge door frame and began scrutinizing the smooth rock for a clue, using his flashlight to illuminate any imperfections…and uttered a triumphant  _"aha!"_  when his fingertips traced over a particularly flat and perfect area, painted the same colour as the surrounding rock. Noticing his sound of victory, Kozmotis abandoned his side and moved to stand behind him and observe.

"Hmm. No buttons. No hinges either, so that means…" he muttered to himself as he peered at a faint rectangle embedded in the frame, and with educated gut instinct driving his right hand, he pushed lightly against the surface.

With a quiet  _clunk_ , the rectangle receded an inch into the wall and slid upwards with the sound of metal grinding against stone to reveal an illuminated red light, a blank green one and a horizontal lever flush against the wall.

"…a pressure-activated secret compartment. How clandestine!"

Unable to prevent the curiosity and urge to see what lay beyond the thick concrete doors, without ceremony Hiccup grasped the lever and – with a grunt that betrayed no small amount of effort – yanked it down.

The sealed gap between the doors widened an inch with a  _clunk_  that shook the earth around them, the sound thundering through the still and silent air with such a volume that the two Ghosts stepped back out of surprise. Seconds later, a guttural and low whirring of the door mechanism kicked in, preceding an equally loud, agonised and drawn-out grinding of metal on stone as the subterranean cogs began to turn for the first time in decades. It was so piercing that, for the forty five seconds it took for the double doors to fully open, the two Ghosts covered their ears and winced while Toothless buried his head in the ground, his paws desperately trying to block the sound from carving its way through his heightened hearing.

Needless to say; the opening of a fifty-year closed door was decidedly unpleasant – especially when stale and thick air rushed through the vertical gap with a loud hiss, forcing the three to suck in a quick breath and hold it.

Then, with an equally loud  _thud_ , the doors finally slid apart to their limit and the way forward was revealed – a quarter of a mile long tunnel with dim lights activating one by one, casting the curved rock ceiling, thin sidewalks and asphalt road in a foreboding and slightly sickly yellow hue.

Silence reigning supreme once more, both Ghosts uncovered their ears, slowly exhaled their long held breath and gazed with wonder at the tunnel ahead.

"Amazing. Just like Cheyenne Mountain…" he could only mutter.

"You mean before the Unifier decreed it to be a government hide-out if New Arendelle was ever attacked." Kozmotis spoke in an equally quiet voice as they took the first steps into the tunnel, the only humans to be there in over fifty years.

"Well, yeah."

"How did you know the power would be on, anyway?" the black-haired Ghost queried as boot steps echoed around the tunnel.

"I didn't, but you said it yourself. I'm an insufferable optometrist." Hiccup shrugged.

"Optimist." Kozmotis corrected.

"Yeah, that too."

Hiccup smiled in pride and relief, not just for the reason that Kozmotis didn't add a sarcastic comment at his confusion between the two words – probably since the same feelings of positivity were washing over the taller man as his golden eyes took in every inch of the tunnel – but because, for the moment, they found exactly what they were looking for.

The road to  _Sanctuary_.

* * *

  _Time: 23:20_

 

"Well,  _that's_  not creepy at all."

Having finished its hundred-foot descent from the tunnel above, the huge, circular freight elevator's wide double doors opened with a dull  _bing_  – Hiccup chose to use that particular elevator rather than the two personnel ones that flanked it solely for Toothless' benefit – and the first thing revealed by the steel sliding doors was the lighting.

Specifically how it flickered and blinked, rendering the immediate area in total darkness for moments at a time – and naturally, the rider nursed an unsettled feeling in his gut at how everything was dimly illuminated for one second, and cast in complete black the next.

Hiccup switched on his mounted flashlight and quietly stepped out of the elevator with Kozmotis following suit, both shouldering their rifles and watchfully pointing them in the ideal flanking directions – Hiccup aimed left, while Kozmotis aimed right – and the feeling of disquiet and foreboding kept their fingers warily resting on the triggers. Even Toothless looked mildly perturbed by the silence, broken only by quiet breathing and slow, measured boot steps.

From what Hiccup could tell under the intermittent lighting and his personal flashlight that he pointed every which way, they were in a grey five metre wide undecorated concrete ring that surrounded the freight elevator, with three white lines that were painted into the floor. The rightmost line ran for about ten feet before turning off into a darkened corridor, and the other two continued on out of sight. Metal piping hugged the ceiling, with some branching off into the walls and others following the same direction as the lines, and a larger pipe which Hiccup assumed to be part of the ventilation system followed much the same pattern.

"Clear." he heard Kozmotis mutter behind him, and knowing they were not in danger from anything other than creepy sensations, Hiccup lowered his P90 and turned to face the taller man while reaching up to fuss over Toothless' scaly head, hoping to assuage any tension in the creature.

"So, what is our first move?"

Hiccup jutted out his jaw in contemplative thought as his fingers absent-mindedly scratched behind Toothless' ears, garnering  _yowls_  of deep appreciation, rolled up eyes and a stuck-out tongue for good measure, and as his brown eyes wandered over the close wall to his left, they fell upon a white plastic map glued to the wall.

"Well," he said as, much to the creature's displeasure, he ceased fussing Toothless' ears and strode over to wrench the map from its concrete base, "first thing we need to do is find where the generator room is, see if I can't fix this spooky lighting problem."

"Which way do we go?" Kozmotis asked as he continued to scrutinize the area around them.

Under the erratic illumination Hiccup studied the map intently; situated in the centre was the circular elevator they previously exited with the concentric ring – labelled  _Foyer –_ surrounding it. Another ring encircled the  _Foyer_ , from which five equidistant entrances branched off into five huge districts:  _Habitation; Science & Healthcare; Recreation & Education; Intelligence & Political_…and the final one being  _Maintenance, Logistics & Hydroponics._

"There," Hiccup tapped the last one, "the generator should be there. I brought a couple of fuel cells from the  _Star_ ; I should be able to improvise something with the power supply like I did with Jack's iPod…but…"

"What?" Kozmotis asked, noticing the brown-haired man's frown. Hiccup exhaled uncertainly as memories of Toothless' behaviour came back to him, barging their way past the gratitude and euphoria of successfully locating  _Sanctuary_ , and he was unable to tear his eyes away from the south-east district.

"…I have this feeling, I don't know why. I think Toothless recognised something in the ruins, and with this place being so close…something's not right, and I can't help but be drawn to the  _Science_  district."

He cast a sideways glance at his scaled friend, who gazed at him with an expression that danced between discomfort and forlorn worry.

"Then let's go there first." Kozmotis calmly declared, and with swift strides and intent scrutiny of the map, the three adventurers strode off toward the  _Foyer's_  south eastern exit and the  _Science & Medical_ district beyond, trying their hardest to ignore the flickering of the lights and the sinister sensations that came with it.

* * *

  _Time: 23:47_

 

There were three things that Hiccup noticed about the district's entrance to which his gut was drawing him.

The first was the fact that the emergency doors were firmly and magnetically closed, and a jaunt by Kozmotis to the other corridors deepened the mystery when he relayed that the  _Science_  district was the only one to be under emergency lockdown.

The second was the blue medium sized redundancy generator located to the door's immediate right; initially he wondered why one part of the base would need its own power supply, but guessed that there was a hospital wing inside and therefore required a separate generator in case of a power grid failure. Judging by the blank computer screen to the left of the door – which remained blank no matter how hard Kozmotis hammered the keyboard below it – the power to the  _Science_ district was offline and therefore the emergency doors had no hope of opening.

The third was Toothless; just like in the ruins, he remained abnormally close to Hiccup to the point that the rider was twice nearly knocked over on the way, and when he cast the occasional glance at his friend the prickling of uncertainty only increased – not to mention the hairs standing up on the back of his neck – when the dragon's catlike eyes shone with a look that screamed  _'I really don't want to be here right now_ , but his expression was one of paradoxical determination.

"You want to stay here, buddy?" Hiccup asked, kneeling as he clipped the cap of one end of his portable power cable to one of the fuel cells, both fished from his backpack. Toothless' face seemed to brighten for a moment as though it was an offer he was waiting for, but it fell almost instantly when he steeled himself with a slightly-too-vigorous shaking of the head.

Hiccup sighed, studying his friend with concern while he straightened up, and wondered if the potential of answers as to his friend's state of mind was worth the obviously disconcerted emotion coursing through that scaled body. Reluctantly turning his attention back to the generator, his left hand that held a special plug paused over a socket labelled  _External Power Source Input_ , and it was hesitation that Kozmotis did not miss.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Dunno," he frowned in pensive thought, his eyes remaining on the socket as though it was the key to secrets he wasn't sure he wanted to know, "I guess I just…I'm usually all for mystery-solving and stuff…but after what happened in the ruins, the fact that only  _this_  district is out of power and locked down gives me the creeps."

"You're wondering what happened behind this door." Kozmotis translated sagely.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well, we're not going to find out unless you stick that plug in." Kozmotis grumbled rather pointedly.

"Yeah, yeah. Message received…you're just salty you didn't find anything upstairs." Hiccup groaned, rolling his eyes. Exhaling deeply as though psyching himself up for a high plunge, he shoved the plug into the input socket without allowing himself a second thought.

The generator, though fifty or more years behind the technology that the fuel cell would ordinarily support, was of a similar design to the one utilised six cells to power the  _Guardian Star,_ so Hiccup expected there to be little he needed to do in the way of making sure the two power supplies were compatible – and even if there was, he could always jury-rig something.

What he did  _not_  expect, however, was what happened in the initial fifteen seconds. The generator hummed and whirred as he figured it would, but it began to steadily rise in volume and pitch to the point that for their own safety the three edged away from the generator a good ten feet, eyeing it warily as though it was going to explode. Soon after that, when Hiccup was about to suggest they find a corner to hide behind, sparks began to explode from the wiring above it, shooting up and out into the concrete corridor and forcing the three to shield their faces. The rider was just about to dart forward and kick the fuel cell away from the generator when, just as quickly as it happened, the frantic buzzing died down to what he assumed to be a normal, consistent rhythm, like peaceful bees in a nest.

"What the hell happened?" Kozmotis said quickly, still eyeing the generator with deep caution.

"Power surge would be my guess. Those cylinders are designed to support moderate drop-ship use for months before replacement, so I guess a little bit too much energy was pulled out before the generator's automatic throttle kicked in." Hiccup explained as he slowly relaxed, satisfied that his efforts weren't going to literally blow up in his face.

"Right…" Kozmotis muttered, prompting the brown-haired man to suppress a snigger at the notion of the usually fearless and determined Kozmotis Pitchiner needing reassurance about a simple power generator.

"It's all good, Koz. Anyway," Hiccup brightly said with a teasing smirk, "the computer seems to be working now."

The tall Ghost's gold eyes flicked from the happily humming generator on one side of the door to the electronic readout on the other, no longer blank and inactive but sporting several lines of green lettering. Without another word – as though masking his prior uncertainty – he strode over to the keyboard and began to quietly mutter as he read each sentence to himself – prompting an exchange of exasperated glances between Hiccup and Toothless.

"Run di-ag-nos-tics," Kozmotis quietly murmured, enunciating each syllable as he typed…and then frowned deeply as the desired information filled the screen in green letters, "oh, now that  _is_  interesting."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense." Hiccup drawled sarcastically.

"According to what I'm reading, the reason the power is down is the result of some sort of containment protocol."

"…run that by me again."

"I'm not repeating myself," Kozmotis snapped tersely, "when the doors came down, the ventilation system was closed off and the power to the  _Science_  district was isolated from the main grid, so it fed off the generator you just activated instead. My guess is that it ran dry."

" _Still_ not liking the words 'containment protocol'."

"On top of that, it looks like the emergency lockdown was initiated internally."

"Wait," Hiccup froze, exchanging glances with Toothless as though those words didn't make sense, "you mean someone  _inside_  the district hit the  _oh-shit_  button? Why would they do that?"

"My guess? Given the containment protocol…they weren't trying to keep anything out, they tried to keep something  _in._ "

Hiccup didn't need the almost menacing smirk that Kozmotis gave him to intensify the insidious and ominous chill in his spine at those words. The idea that something bad happened behind that steel bulkhead, perilous enough to warrant a district-wide lockdown left his stomach in a state of severe clenching. Generally, being a dragon-rider required a degree of fearlessness…but after everything that happened over the past few hours along with Kozmotis' revelation, he could be forgiven for the prickles of fear within him.

"Of course, the lockdown was initiated over fifty years ago. I would imagine that whatever justified such measures has long passed, so I believe we are safe." he forced a smile, adopting as much of a casual air as he could to defuse Hiccup's foreboding. It didn't work.

"In any case, the return of power has given me control of the ventilation systems and the emergency bulkhead, so…"

Without finishing the sentence, Kozmotis typed in a series of YES commands and then, shouldering and aiming his G36 at the double doors, stepped back to stand at Hiccup's left. Naturally, the messy-haired Ghost followed suit with his own P90, and even Toothless growled and tensed his body in preparation for violence.

It never came, since as soon as the doors opened wide enough all that was revealed was an empty and well lit white corridor stretching to the other end of the district, with wall-mounted signs indicating the purpose of each room. Of course, the smell of stale air along with a decidedly putrid scent forced the three members to cover their noses and mouths, and Hiccup immediately sympathised with Toothless and his heightened sense of smell.

But so far, that was the worst thing.

"See? Nothing." Kozmotis announced breezily and swept ahead into the corridor…though Hiccup noticed that the tall man's rifle was kept against his shoulder. He and Toothless made to follow, but as soon as they were about to step through the doorway, the dragon promptly froze and violently shook his head, uttering whines and growls of alarm.

"What's up buddy?" Hiccup asked, frowning deeply with worry. Toothless kept his green eyes firmly locked upon the corridor and Kozmotis' retreating back, an expression of distress on his scaly features. The rider quickly glanced in the same direction, and felt his gut clench a little as he watched Kozmotis disappear around a left corner, halfway down the corridor.

Toothless pawed his friend's arm with anxious abandon, uttering more whines and yowls that tugged at Hiccup's heart, and left him with the feeling of being increasingly torn. On the one hand, he was curious as to the reasoning for the lockdown despite the uneasy sensation in his gut; on the other, Toothless was clearly not liking the idea of moving into the district as though it was the bane of his existence, and the fact that his buddy who so effortlessly tore a wing from a drop-ship, who fearlessly charged into battle with his signature shriek and blistering speed was scared by a mere corridor only heightened the uneasiness, along with a particularly sharp ache in the heart.

"What's bothering-" he began, but the low mutter of Kozmotis' slightly garbled voice in his ear piece stopped the words in their tracks.

" _Night Fury, I've found something that might explain things."_

"What?" he asked, pressing his fingers against the ear piece in an effort to hear more clearly, "also, how is it our radios work down here?"

" _You're the engineer, you tell me. It's probably piggybacking on the internal communications system. Either way, get down here. Take the first left turn, then the second right, and go through the door marked 'Experimentation Wing A' at the end of the corridor. I think I found out why someone initiated the lockdown procedure."_

"Do I have to? Toothless is getting antsy. I should probably-"

" _Just do it. Toothless can take care of himself."_

Hiccup sighed, and grumbled, "Can't believe he's the ranking officer on this little adventure…freaking 'just do it'…"

" _I can hear you."_

"Good!" he snapped, then his voice softened by a sizeable degree as he looked into the worried face of his best friend, "I'm gonna go and see what Mr Grouchy-Pants wants me to see. You can stay here if you want, buddy."

Toothless' eyes widened to their limit, and he vigorously shook his head.

"It's okay, I'll be fine. I've got my P90, and Koz is watching my six. I'll be back before you know it." Hiccup smiled, trying his damndest to assuage the protective worry in his winged friend. Toothless studied his face for a good few seconds, evidently searching Hiccup's eyes for proof of his breezy conviction…and eventually nodded.

"Okay. Love you, buddy. Roar or howl or…something…if you need us."

Toothless nodded again before sitting his hindquarters on the ground, and after a few reassuring taps on the creature's snout Hiccup turned and followed the directions given to him by his ally, making sure to keep the bullpup handles of his P90 tightly gripped.

On the way to his destination, he passed several rooms that looked completely innocuous – there were two dentist surgeries, a physiotherapy room and a pharmacy to name but a few. Throw in the hospital wing to which Hiccup saw signposts pointing in the opposite direction, and you have everything you medically require to survive the end of the world. It seemed to arouse pleasant warmth in the Ghost's chest, the notion that if you give a human enough resources and time for preparation they can survive anything, because that was exactly what his kind was doing.

Of course, that thought went right out of his head and was replaced with acute horror when he entered Experimentation Wing A…and saw the three skeletons.

One was draped in the middle of the floor, with its left arm cast several feet away near a closed door at the opposite side of the huge, white and brightly lit room. Another was sprawled face down over a desk with its spine completely severed, sharing the space with several sheets of paper that lay cascaded over the desk and floor, its right hand resting on a clipboard. A third lay resting against the corner to his immediate right, just under a red button with the label CONTAINMENT BREACH below it. In a moment of coherent thought that wasn't swimming in nauseous alarm, Hiccup surmised that it belonged to the person who initiated the lockdown protocol – before they died as a result of the myriad bite and scratch marks all over their ribcage, of course.

The worst part was the brown stains that adorned the wall in several violent spray patterns, and he had the distinct impression that it could only have been blood.

"These people's last moments must have been horrific."

Hiccup, who was so lost in the moment and felt like he had somehow stepped back from reality, felt his heart practically stop in fright when Kozmotis broke the silence – to say he was startled was an understatement, so he could be forgiven for shooting an annoyed scowl at the man to his left.

"Jeez…" he hissed, holding a hand over his chest, "a little warning next time before you wanna give me a heart attack?"

Kozmotis said nothing, choosing instead to keep his back turned as he knelt and studied a fourth, larger skeleton, his body partially obscuring the brown and fully decomposed remains. Shaking his head with deep incredulity Hiccup turned to exit the room, figuring that Kozmotis was playing a particularly gruesome prank.

The intention was to retrace his steps through the corridor and reunite with his buddy, then wait however long it took for Kozmotis to satiate his morbid curiosity – but all of that went out of the metaphorical window when, in an effort to avoid any more corpses from sneaking into his vision he kept his eyes firmly fixed to the ground…and that was when the blood drained from his face.

Nestled amongst the cascade of papers across the floor was a photograph of which only a third was visible, but it was enough for him to recognise the catlike eyes and gummy maw.

"Holy shit…" he breathed, his mind working furiously to comprehend why there was a picture of Toothless on the floor, in a room populated by four long dead and decayed people.

Quicker than he ever thought possible, he crouched down, used his right hand to sweep aside the papers covering the photograph, hoping to confirm or deny the possibility that wrenched his stomach. He always wondered where Toothless came from, but given the creature's inability to speak along with the complete lack of clues in the Unity Information Library, he had no way of finding out. As he pinched the corner of the photograph and lifted it from the floor, he felt his heart punch against his ribcage as he drank in the image of a young black dragon barely a metre in length, its face of wide-eyed innocence as it laid upon a steel table next to a measuring ruler.

"Toothless…" he murmured as he traced two fingers over the image.

The fingertips of his right hand spoke of a different texture of paper than the photograph, a sensation confirmed by the presence of a paper clip on the top left corner, so with a disbelieving heart he folded over the photograph – which revealed what looked like a written report.

_SUBJECT ALPHA_

_Gender: M_

_DNA composition: Varanus komodoensis (base genetic template for size and strength), Puma concolour coryi (speed, agility), Aceradon jubatus (flight)._

_Notes: Subject Alpha is, quite frankly, a scientific and genetic breakthrough. All efforts to splice genes prior to the C-112 serum failed, but since its addition the results have been overwhelming. Subject hatched and grew to the length of one metre in the space of eight days thanks to the presence of an accelerated growth hormone, and has been observed to display characteristics belonging to the three species above. In addition, presence of C-112 has granted increased intelligence far beyond that of any animal, along with the surprising ability to generate and release fire from its mouth in the form of a blue torpedo._

_Next week will see the introduction of behavioural conditioning as the subject is displaying a negative attitude and a staunch reluctance to follow commands – harsher methods may be needed to ensure compliance._

_The scientific and military possibilities of such a genetic hybrid are endless._

_Signed, Dr. R. Smith._

"Holy shit…" Hiccup repeated in a broken voice.

"What?" Kozmotis asked from behind him, still riveted by the skeleton.

"Toothless…he…" the rider breathed, completely and utterly gut-punched by the revelation, "my best friend…he wasn't born. H-he was created. He was…he was an  _experiment_."

Hiccup read and re-read the report, his heart still unwilling to believe the words in front of him – but a voice in his mind repeated over and over again that it all made sense. Toothless' fear and anger in the facility above, his initial distrust of and aggressive behaviour towards the only two humans on the island…he was born out of scientific curiosity and opportunity, and mistreated when his personality began to show as it meant a lack of compliance to orders from amoral men and women. Returning there must have brought acute flashbacks, memories of pain and anger, fear and dread.

Hiccup knew he had a stubborn, sometimes distrustful personality – but he was also loving, affectionate, resilient…and if someone was to earn his respect like the rider did, then his loyalty was undying.

"I don't care what this says…" he murmured to himself so Kozmotis couldn't hear, "you are not a lab science project. You are my best friend."

It was at that point that his eyes fell upon a second report just below that of Subject Alpha – and in that moment, Hiccup didn't know  _what_  to feel other than the breaking of his heart…because there was  _another_.

_SUBJECT BETA_

_Gender: F_

_DNA composition: Velociraptor (base genetic template for speed and intelligence), Hystrix cristata (defensive quills), Aceradon jubatus (flight)._

_Notes: With the success of Subject Alpha, a second experiment was initiated that pushed the frontiers of scientific experimentation and knowledge. Using the DNA of a velociraptor acquired via a third party as the base template (I thought those creatures were long extinct, but apparently there have been certain discoveries on an island off the coast of Costa Rica), and combining it with genes from the above species in addition to the C-112 serum, a new hybrid has been created that possesses excellent speed and ferocity, the ability to launch sharpened quills from her tail, and thanks to the serum's presence also has above-average intelligence and the ability to project fire from her mouth. Unlike Subject A's torpedo of explosive flame, Subject B ejects a spray of exceedingly hot fire that has melted its containment cage several times. Therefore, a muzzle is to be used at all times when interacting with her and behavioural conditioning is to start as soon as possible._

_Signed, Dr R. Smith._

Hiccup swallowed thickly, and for the first time in a long time no words came to him, no witty comments or sarcastic groans that Hiccup H. Haddock was famous for. In fact, it was like his entire brain had shut down with the revelation, so much so that he was only peripherally aware of Kozmotis' movement away from the corner and over to the door at the other end of the bloodstained room.

Toothless was not the only experiment.

He wondered if Subject B ever escaped the facility like his best friend clearly did and, if so, managed to find a life for itself away from human interaction…or if it perished in the cruise missile strike along with everything – and every _one_  – else that constituted the horror of Toothless' early years.

He hoped that it  _did_  survive, and the dauntless optimist inside him prayed that Subject B found someone as equally caring and loving of her as he was of Toothless, someone to show her that not all humans are amoral, that there are those that stop to think if they  _should_ , rather than focus on if they  _could_.

Kozmotis' voice disturbed his reverie like the crack of smooth thunder in an otherwise quiet night, and in a weird way…Hiccup was thankful for the distraction. The longer he spent in the world of animal experimentations and genetic splicing, the more nauseous he felt and the stronger the hate burned inside him.

"Are you alright, Haddock?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy." Hiccup growled – something so unusual for him that it caused a frown of curiosity and surprise from his taller ally. Quickly folding the photograph and report into quarters, he slid it into the breast pocket of his utility vest and turned to face the black-haired Ghost, who returned his gaze to the doorway of the adjacent room.

"Utilising sarcasm when someone asks how you are is strictly Frost's schtick, you know." Kozmotis quietly persisted, and it elicited a small explosion of verbal vitriol that surprised the rider with how quickly and loudly it came out.

"Yeah, well, I just found out that my best friend is the product of a fucking genetic jigsaw puzzle, created because some asshole decided he wanted to play God. He was mistreated and experimented on, and probably had the worst start to life of any animal I can think of – and I stupidly brought him back to the facility upstairs where it all happened. So yeah, I'm a little pissed off."

What did surprise Hiccup was how unmoved Kozmotis seemed to be. The revelation of Toothless' birth was a horrific gut punch that left no small amount of anger, regret, guilt and pity coursing through the rider's body... but Kozmotis acted like he wasn't taken aback in the slightest. To say it frustrated Hiccup was an understatement, but the taller man's next words not only explained his impassive façade, but also sent a chill through the brown-haired Ghost's spine.

"He wasn't the only experiment – they did it on humans too."

"…what." was all Hiccup could manage.

"These corpses all have bite marks and notches in their bones, so whatever they were experimenting on broke free and killed them all. I thought it was an animal…but that was until I saw that skeleton."

Kozmotis jerked a thumb behind him as he kept his gaze firmly locked toward the other room. Following the gesture, Hiccup's eyes fell upon the corpse that his ally was so dutifully scrutinising when he walked in.

Slumped against the wall was the larger skeleton previously obstructed by the curious Ghost, and at first glance the size seemed to be the only difference – but that was until he saw the eight inch long, exceedingly sharp claws that protruded from the middle of both hands, the razor sharp inch-long fangs that lined an elongated jaw, and a pair of surgical scissors embedded between its eye sockets.

"Okay, now that's just  _nasty_. I guess one of the white-coats managed to get a hit off before they died." Hiccup winced, trying to ignore the mental image of what that  _thing_  might have looked like in its heyday as it slashed, ripped and bit into flesh.

"There's more." Kozmotis announced forebodingly, and promptly swept into the next room. Occasionally turning back to cast disconcerted glances at the long-dead entity, Hiccup slowly followed while carefully avoiding the armless corpse in the middle of the floor, and almost reluctantly stepped through the doorway.

"What the hell…" was all he could muster.

The room was double the size of the one he just exited, with the walls, floor and ceiling coloured in an identical clinical white. Covering the floor was a huge pool of clear liquid with dozens of shards of broken glass dotted around like vicious transparent barbs, and directly opposite the door on the furthest side of the room stood five huge cylindrical transparent tanks, each one sporting a shattered and jagged hole.

"Are those…"

The quiet  _splish-splosh_  of Kozmotis' watery steps reached Hiccup's ears as he watched the slender man slowly move towards the empty tanks to study each one intently, and for a time the silence was deafening. Something definitely attracted Kozmotis' attention, and with everything he had learned so far about Toothless and the…thing…in the previous room, Hiccup had the distinct idea that it was definitely  _not_  good.

"Incubation tanks…my, this  _is_  interesting," Kozmotis mused as he reached out his right fingers to stroke down the inside of the middle tank, "the leftmost one is completely dry, but there is still moisture inside the other four…and it's warm. On top of that, there are no shards of glass inside the tanks… _shit_."

"What's-"

Suddenly the lights went out, bathing the room in complete darkness and freezing the words in Hiccup's throat. Unable to see anything, he swallowed thickly and tried to assuage the iron-heavy fall of fear in his stomach while he switched on the P90 mounted flashlight and brought a thin beam of illumination to the once brightly-lit room, over the water-covered floor, shards of glass glimmering under the light – and Kozmotis' concerned, angular countenance, his golden eyes gazing right back at him.

And then, breaking the silence like a soft and distant series of thunder cracks…the  _pat-pat-pat-pat_ of light and quick footsteps echoing from the corridor.

"What was that?" he muttered through a dry mouth as he whirled around and aimed his P90 at the doorway, distinctly aware of the thunderous pulse in his ears. He was only peripherally aware of Kozmotis' flashlight from somewhere to his right, pointed in exactly the same direction – and the moment his ally spoke, he wished that they never went on this mission.

"We're not alone."

_to be continued..._


	14. Three Valkyries Walk Into a Bar: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamelessly copy-pasting these notes from FFN:
> 
> For the record: there is no Jack x Astrid pairing in this. While I have stated that it is a crackship of mine, they will not be in a relationship at any point in the story nor a part of any love triangles. This is strictly a one-off situation, designed to provoke conflict further in the story. There will be Hiccstrid, and there will be Jelsa - which brings me to my next point…
> 
> This is a slow burn. While I realise and totally understand readers wishing to see their favourite characters together, I feel the need to point out that said characters have a lot of hate and negative feelings towards each other (with the exception of a balanced one or two), and they will have to get past those before any relationships can be formed – sibling, romantic or otherwise. This is a long story, longer than CttT.
> 
> I'd say more but I feel I've spoiled enough – oh, and reiterating the M rating for this chapter, and for those that don't want to read it I've put a double-line-break for a particular part, so you can skip it if you should so desire – 'cause it's steamy.
> 
> With that in mind: as the Joker once said: "and here…we…go."

"Hey, you okay? You look a little zoned out there, was it something I said?" Astrid asked, a small frown dancing upon her strikingly pretty features as they danced in a slow circle during the song's slap bass and electric drum-filled interlude, Jack's hands resting on her hips while her arms remained linked around his neck.

It was true, the only thought in his entire mindscape consisted of two words upon discovering her occupation:  _well…fuck._

Of all the things he expected, guessed or briefly entertained might happen that night, dancing with a Valkyrie ranked around the 'least likely' section alongside extra-terrestrial first contact, Unity's spontaneous fall and Kristoff finally popping the question. Yet, there he was; a Ghost dancing a slow, oddly romantic dance in the arms of his mortal enemy, who only minutes before had been passionately capturing his lips – and if he possessed a semblance of cognitive thought, he would have remarked upon the acute changes to his sensory perceptions. Her brown knife-pleated skirt was no longer soft under his fingertips but abrasive; the music morphed into oppressive and murky from loud and flirtatious; and the woman before his eyes was still visually pleasing but now represented his potential demise.

His spacing out was caused by the conflict between two sides of him – the responsible, cautious side was commanding him to run; to make his excuses, grab Eugene and get the hell out of there, while the cocky, arrogant and moderately drunk side suggested that he stay and run the risk – none of the Valkyries knew of their true identities and, if the two men were exceedingly careful, they likely never would.

And if he was honest, he was getting a kick out of being right under her nose without her suspecting anything…and if he was  _really_  honest, her straightforward and assertive attitude along with her less-than-cryptic overtures towards continuing the night at her place, not to mention her rather attractive body hugging his was doing little to dampen his arousal.

Though his mischievous and devious side liked the idea of bedding a Valkyrie without her suspecting a thing, the fact that she was who she was went against everything he fought for and the idea of bedding her  _also_  made his skin crawl. It was a paradoxical situation.

"Hello? Anyone alive in there?"

She was beginning to sense that something was off, and he knew it. Furthermore, he was certain that she wasn't stupid in any way, shape or form and would quickly connect his sudden change of behaviour with the declaration of her career.

Worse still, he didn't know  _which_  Valkyrie she was; he could be dancing with Snow Queen, the very woman that slashed his back open – a thought that renewed the chill of fear trickling down his spine. So, in a moment of clarity afforded by the realisation that his discovery was at stake, he made his decision – think fast, act suave, and wing it.

Naturally, as soon as possible he would sneak into the men's bathroom to make a quick radio call to the  _Star_  for instructions – of course, if Astrid  _was_  the one called Snow Queen, going back to her place meant there was no way he could hide the healing scar on his back and he knew for a fact she would recognise it – exit Frost stage left, pursued by Valkyrie.

"Huh?" he blinked, "oh, sorry. I just can't believe I'm dancing with a bona fide Valkyrie."

"You had better not be mocking me, 'cause that sounded like you were." she  _growled_  as she narrowed her eyes with the beginnings of a scowl, and he even felt the jab of a finger in the back of his neck.

_Smooth moves, Frost._

"Mocking you? Hell no. I did say I'm attracted to strong women, and you Valkyries are pretty badass…though I  _just_ decided I don't like the masks."

Astrid cocked her head to the side as the scowl fell from her features, but she kept her narrowed eyes firmly on his as she spoke, "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"They hide how hot you are." he smirked, and ignored the repeated indignant curses of a voice in the recesses of his mind. Astrid's cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, visible even under the dim lights above the 'dance floor' as the suspicious glimmer in her eyes gave way to a playful smirk.

"You've got a silver tongue." she huskily said, arching her back a little to brush her abdomen against his.

"That's not all it's capable of." Jack half-smiled, hiding the smugness as much as he could when he saw her eyes widen a small margin, her lips part and practically heard the switch of her breathing from smooth to ragged. Despite the supposedly sobering revelation, the alcohol was having the effect of intensifying his bravado, and the swaying of her hips wasn't helping the distinct arousal.

"That's a mighty bold claim you have there, Chris. I gotta say, I wonder if you've got the skills to back it up…" she murmured challengingly, casting him a lidded gaze as she closed her lips to within an inch of his. Jack found himself acutely aware of the tightening of his chest – along with his pants – and decided that there was no way in hell he was going to let her dominate, not in this game of flirts and insinuations.

"Wouldn't you like to know." he retorted low and coy, intentionally keeping his lips  _just_  out of her reach.

"Oh, trust me. I would."

"I bet. I'm wondering if a Valkyrie's as good in bed as I hear they are in a fight…" he kept up the pressure, figuring that the combination of less-than-subtle innuendo and veiled taunts was the way to go – but Astrid was more than a match for that.

"Put it this way, neither of us are going to be walking tomorrow." she purred, her lips uttering the words slowly enough for him to catch every single one.

In that moment, when the musical interlude ceased and reached the loud crescendo where the vocals singing of satisfaction, the pizzicato guitar, slap bass and electric drums all crashed into one gloriously sensual rhythm, Jack was the one to feel  _his_  breath becoming deep and laboured, and something took over his mind – the urge to dominate his enemy. Astrid took his flirts, matched them and sent them right back at him with interest, and if he wasn't going to take the edge with words, he would with his body.

Moving his hands from her hips to her shoulders, he elicited a gasp as he pushed her back with just enough strength to have her lightly impact the booth behind her, then drank in her surprised yet aroused expression as he surged forward to press his body against hers, and leaned in to hover his mouth a couple of inches from her exposed neck, noting with pride the barely perceptible gasp as his breath mingled with her sensitive skin while her hands rested themselves upon his chest.

"I take it…you're the one with the sword?" he murmured loud enough for her to hear.

"No way," she sneered, "swords are weak. Axes are more my thing…"

Surges of barely-controlled relief flooded Jack with every pulse of his admittedly thudding heartbeat, and for a brief moment he felt his entire body relax; Astrid was  _not_  Snow Queen and likely would not recognise the scar on his back – though she could have been made aware of it by the woman who caused it. However, that was a chance rather than a certainty.

Unfortunately for him, the momentary relaxation and distraction created by the tide of reassurance cost him his position, and in a spectacular reversal of assertiveness Astrid used her hands to push against his chest, forcing him to stagger backwards…and then, with a hungry glint in her eye, she grasped a handful of the startled man's tank top. Jack took a sharp breath as he felt himself be yanked forward like a rag doll; one second he was three feet away from her, the other he was pulled forward so their bodies pressed against one another, her left hand still gripping his top while her right entwined itself with the dyed hair on the back of his head, their lips remaining agonisingly close.

"Strange…" he murmured, as he rested his left hand on the nape of her neck and another on the base of her spine. Her mouth parted in expectation of another lustful kiss.

"What?" she asked – and he felt the tightening of her grip on his hair in addition to hearing a gasp as he dipped and held her horizontally a foot from the ground. Gazing into her widened and startled eyes, he relished the moment of being dominant once more.

"You're really bold and confident, and you know what you want. I pegged you to be the leader, the one with the sword in that Upper City poster…what with her being front and centre and all…" he taunted.

Her eyes darkened as the briefest of scowls flashed across her countenance, and he felt her centre of gravity shift towards her head as she pushed on the floor with her toes, forcing him to subconsciously pull her back upright lest they fall down in a crumpled heap. She promptly capitalised on the reflexive reaction by forcing him to stagger backwards with her left index finger, and as he let out an annoyed grunt from the impact of his butt against the bar servery, she gave him a wry smile and trapped him against it with her body.

"Does it make a difference if I'm not?" she intoned with a split-second eyebrow quirk, and kept it as Jack slipped his right hand between their brushing chests, laced their fingers together and spun her on the spot like the tango of old, quickly grasped her forearms and held them around her in a lusty yet imprisoning embrace. Smiling, she leaned her head back onto his left shoulder as their hips swayed together, and he  _knew_ she could feel his crotch by how her butt brushed against it.

Sensing his advantage, he released his right hand's grasp of her left forearm, twirled her around and quickly pinned both of her arms at the base of her spine as he pulled her against him. She could definitely feel him now, judging by the breathed moan that escaped the lips that brushed against his, and the slow, gentle and imperceptible grinding of her hips against him.

"No…" he murmured against her mouth – which smirked coyly as, for the third time that night, she reversed his domination by physically pushing against his restraining hands, twisted her own digits to gain purchase on his wrists, and forced them back to pin them against the bar servery on either side of him.

"Didn't think so…" she purred.

As the music entered its outro, where the pizzicato guitar, finger clicks and synthesised drum slowed down to a crawl, Astrid decided she had enough of aggressive musical foreplay, of seductive movements, teasing and just-out-of-reach lips. Releasing his wrists from their imprisonment, she moved her hands to either side of Jack's face and crashed her mouth against his, a light moan swallowed by him as their crotches heavily brushed each other…a movement aided when Jack feathered his fingers on her ass and held her against him. Their lips moved in synchronicity, no tenderness or emotional appreciation lay within the entwined kiss – merely lust, desire and a hedonistic hunger for pleasures of the flesh.

Jack felt his chest tighten as he became increasingly lost in the moment. It had been a while since he had female attention, and though there was clearly no attachment between the two of them beyond the obvious need for physical satisfaction, he could be forgiven for being human, for slowly forgetting that the woman pressing herself against him was a Valkyrie.

Blind and deaf to all else, it took the piercing sound of a sharp wolf whistle that cut through the ambient voices, electronic chirps of the dartboard and the heat clouding his abdomen and mind to bring him back to earth, and as he broke the kiss in a slightly bewildered manner, he shot a startled look at the instigator of his reality check – Eugene.

With his arms around Rapunzel's waist as hers linked themselves around his neck, the scout danced a slow and surprisingly romantic dance in the space earlier vacated by Jack and Astrid in their aggressive power play – and as his friend gave him a knowing smirk and a cocked eyebrow, the Ghost was brought back to the murky truth of the situation and what he needed to make sense of it: a guiding  _Star._

"Aww," Astrid cooed, her dilated gaze following his as she slid her hands down to his chest, "it's actually kinda sweet how into each other they are."

Jack's eyebrows dipped in the smallest of frowns when he noticed that Astrid was right – Eugene's eyes held a glimmer that he hadn't seen in a long time, and the smile that graced the scout's lips was genuine and appreciative – which meant he had no idea  _who_  he was dancing with.

"Yeah…sweet…hey, will you excuse me for a moment? I need to visit the bathroom…" he asked, returning his eyes to his dance partner as he removed his hands from her butt.

"That's totally fine, I kinda need a moment to cool off – I was holding myself back from jumping you right here. I'm aggressive and all, but I'm no exhibitionist."

She released her hands, only to trail a finger down his chest, and bit her lip as she cast him a lidded, coy gaze.

"But don't take too long; I don't wanna be here a minute longer than I have to, if you catch my drift."

Jack forced a half smile as he nodded his thanks, and slid himself from his position of entrapment to make his way towards the men's bathroom nestled at the end of a dimly-lit, black-painted corridor…and he was halfway there when his fingers instinctively scratched at his right ear, and his heart dropped – his earpiece wasn't there.

"Shit…" he hissed at himself, as the memories barraged his mind of where he left it – forgotten on the bathroom sink at their apartment, cast aside when he took a shower a few hours earlier. Stuck in the paralysing anxiety derived from the knowledge that he had no way of contacting home, his breathing stalled as he wondered how the hell he was going to get his bearings…and then an idea blinked on in his mind like a lightbulb.

Eugene might still be wearing his.

Turning on the balls of his feet, he marched towards the couple swaying slowly on the dancefloor, Rapunzel's hands on Eugene's shoulders while their lips were pressed tenderly together, possessing none of the ferocity that assaulted Jack's. He briefly hated having to break up the entwined couple…but chalked it up to necessity when he rapped Eugene's left upper arm.

"Dude, we need to talk." he hissed, low enough for only the scout to hear.

"Can it wait? Kind of having a moment." Eugene pointedly whispered back, his eyes not leaving Rapunzel's…whose smile fell as she wondered what the fuss was about.

"It kind of concerns your moment. Bro-talk?" Jack persisted through gritted teeth, and he involuntarily caught the eye of Astrid sat in the booth by Merida, clutching her drink as she regarded him curiously. Eugene sighed, then released his hands from Rapunzel's waist to gently grasp her right hand, murmuring as he placed a delicate kiss upon her knuckle –  _"to be continued, my lady. Don't go anywhere."_

Jack strode off under the watchful gaze of Astrid, and waited in the bathroom corridor far enough that the Valkyries' view of him was obscured by its corner. Eugene appeared seconds later with a weary scowl upon his countenance, and his eyes shone with an irritated glare.

"What's your problem, bro?" he snapped.

"Say what?" Jack frowned as he folded his arms defensively.

"I saw you and Astrid; you two were all over each other to the point that I didn't freaking know if you were on first, second or third base – hell, a combination of all three – but the minute I get cosy with Rapunzel, you're like  _'dude, we need to talk'_! The hell, man? It isn't enough for you to get lucky, but you gotta block me too?" Eugene growled harshly, and for a few seconds Jack was completely speechless.

"What…I…you…" he stammered, completely bowled over by the deep irritation in his friend's voice, "that's…not what I'm doing, Eugene! She-"

"-is an attractive, funny, gutsy young woman who has made it very clear she likes me in that way…and newsflash, I like her too, so yeah! I'm going for it, and as soon as I get back to her we're picking up where we left off, so tell me what you want so you can leave us to it!" Eugene mercilessly cut him off.

Jack's eyes darkened as the muscles tensed in his jaw, and for a brief second he was tempted to punch Eugene in the head for being so blinkered. The two men stood facing each other with veiled fire in their eyes, and Jack suspected that the only way he could make his friend aware of Rapunzel's potential career is if he yelled – thus drawing their attention.

"Your earpiece." he said low as he held out a hand. Eugene blinked in surprise.

"Wait, you interrupted me so you could call home base? Figures. Here," he snapped as he pulled the small device from the pocket of his pants and slammed it into Jack's palm, "knock yourself out."

He stalked off without another word, and Jack was left with a feeling of deep incredulity amidst the merry haze of alcohol. He turned and walked towards the men's bathroom, casting one last look at his friend's retreating back, and he shook his head as his eyes flicked down to the earpiece in his hand – and his nose immediately wrinkled in disgust.

"Ugh…you could've cleaned it first." he muttered as he wiped the device on his trousers before sliding it into his right ear, his left hand reaching out to push the bathroom door open.

The badly tiled walls, ceiling and faux linoleum floor was decorated in an what-was-once-white colour, with four sinks to the right, four cubicles to the left and two urinals nestled next to the closest cubicle. Jack was immediately struck with the alternating thoughts that, for one, though the bathroom was relatively clean it was evident that decorating it was low on the list of the bar staff's priorities, and it was mercifully empty – which would allow him to contact the  _Star_  in peace.

* * *

 

"Frost to base, come in." he said low as he entered the furthest empty cubicle, and blinked in surprise when Anna's answer came almost immediately.

" _Hey! I thought your next check-in was tomorrow?"_ she said brightly.

"Let's just say I've got some news. Harvester or Snow White with you, or do you need to call them?" he asked, figuring that if they weren't there he wouldn't be able to wait the ten or fifteen minutes it might take for them to arrive in the briefing room.

" _No, they're right here! Say hi, guys!"_ she called, and Jack was treated to a tired  _"hi…"_ from Kristoff and a polite  _"hello, Frost"_ from Neve.

"Why are you all there, something wrong?" Jack frowned.

" _Actually, everything is alright…because, well, we've got some news too. Pitch and Night Fury went to that old facility a couple of days ago, 'cause we've decided to initiate Sanctuary."_  Kristoff spoke instead.

Jack's jaw dropped – he never thought it was possible, but there it was. Kristoff had offhandedly mentioned the plan to him a long time ago, figuring that it was a good idea for the second in command to know. The idea that his kind would soon be permanently moving home and gutting the  _Star_  in the process…it left an alternating sensation of optimistic pride and nauseous foreboding.

"Have you already found a place?"

" _Maybe! Exciting, isn't it! Anyway, that's not the only good news…Kristoff proposed!"_ Anna squealed.

Jack took a sharp breath with the revelation, and wondered if Unity's instant fall and extra-terrestrial contact wasn't so farfetched in light of Anna's news, "What?! When did he do that?!"

" _A day ago, but they will tell you another time, Frost,"_ Neve interceded with a polite yet pointed tone, which Jack was thankful for as he realised he was wasting time,  _"tell us, what news do you have?"_

"Right," Jack sighed, and flopped back against the toilet's cistern, "there's a couple of things, actually. First off, Flynn and I are in a bar, and we made contact with the Butler a few hours ago."

" _What did he have for you?"_

"Unity stopped the construction of New Fransokyo and they've been redirecting the materials to somewhere in either southern Utah or Arizona. Unidium plating, workers, even the unidium drive…it's all being moved someplace where there's no record of a city being built. I gotta say – it's giving me a bad feeling."

" _You and me both,"_  Kristoff's grim tones resonated through the earpiece this time,  _"whatever it is they're doing that needs_ that  _much power isn't good. What's your next move?"_

"Flynn and I are gonna have a look, and I'll let you guys know if we find anything interesting."

" _Copy. What's the other thing?"_  Kristoff asked, as he audibly slurped from an unknown drink.

"Well," Jack began awkwardly, "there're these three women…and two of them seem to be pretty interested in Flynn and me…"

At that point he wished he hadn't opened his mouth as Anna launched into a bright and energetic volley of rapid fire questions and advice.

" _Frost, you suave dog! How do they look? Are they cute? Tell me about the one who likes you, is she a match for the great Frost? What base are you on? You should get her Uni-Com number. Go on a date or something. As your best friend and personal relationship advisor, I strongly encourage you to-"_

"She's a Valkyrie. They all are."

" _-make an ice knife and shank the bitch in the back."_ Anna finished in a perfect non sequitur without missing a beat.

"She also made it pretty clear she wants to sleep with me-"

" _WHAT?!"_  came a three-strong chorus this time, the male voice broken by the sound of choking.

"…at least, I hope that's all she wants. She is kinda…forward." he winced, his wrists involuntarily recalling the strength of her grip, and then an audible yelp resonated from the earpiece loud enough for Jack's head to instinctively jerk away from it.

" _How the-ow! Why are you slapping my arm, Streak?!"_ he heard his leader yelp, and the surprisingly amusing hiss of Anna in response.

" _You said they'd be fine unless they met a Valkyrie in a bar! Do you even_ know _what the phrase 'famous last words' means?!"_

" _How the hell did I know that would actually happen?"_ Kristoff whined, uttering another yelp when Anna slapped his arm again. Jack wondered why the reaction to a Valkyrie wanting to sleep with him was far more intense than the clandestine redirection of city-grade materials to a secret location.

"Hey," he hissed irritably, "can we get back to the whole Valkyrie-wants-my-bodything?"

" _Frost,"_ Neve's voice rang out, soft yet commanding,  _"is there an emotional attachment between the two of you, or is this a no-strings one night stand?"_

"Um…the second one. I get the feeling I'm just a way for her to blow off some steam. Why?"

There was a period of silence for a few seconds, and Jack was starting to become suspicious – a feeling that only intensified when Anna next spoke.

" _Just one second, Frost. Snow White and Harvester are_ actually _discussing this."_ she said in a tone of forced politeness.

"Well, tell them to get a move on, would ya? Pretty sure I've been here a while, and I don't think she's the type who makes distinctions between men's and women's bathrooms." Jack hissed through gritted teeth as he leaned forward and poked his head out of the cubicle, checking to see if the room was still empty – mercifully for him, it was.

" _We're back. Is she Snow Queen-ow! Quit it, Streak!"_

"No, I think she's the one called Viking. The third one has a thing for archery, so I'm guessing that's…Dorkeye, I think? Which means the one that Flynn is all over is Goldilocks – and no, he doesn't know."

" _Good,"_ Kristoff spoke quietly, as though he was figuring something out in his head,  _"Snow Queen might not recognise you, but Flynn wasn't wearing a mask that night so she'd have made him instantly. Which makes this a little easier – we think you should sleep with Viking."_

"Wait, what?" Jack gaped, and flopped back onto the toilet in total surprise.

" _Think about it. Your whole mission is to gather information by any means necessary, right? This counts as a means."_ Kristoff said pointedly.

" _Don't forget that – by the way, let the record show that I think this is a_ stupid  _idea, and is the reason women will inherit the earth – you'll get a good time out of it, too."_  Anna added.

"Well…yeah, but…I'm sorry, I wanna go back to the part where you're actively encouraging me to fuck a Valkyrie, 'cause that's unbelievable." hissed Jack, bewildered by what he was hearing.

" _What's wrong with the idea?"_

"We're supposed to be the good guys, for a start!" Jack gaped, his incredulity deepening.

" _Who said we're the good guys?"_ the squad leader pointed out, and for a moment Jack was rendered utterly speechless. It wasn't long ago in the grand scheme of things that the Ghosts were embroiled in battle against the ferocious Valkyries…and now Kristoff and Neve were sanctioning having sex with one of them.

" _Frost,"_ Neve added, and the young Ghost felt increasingly cornered,  _"we are all fighting for our survival, and we believe that if sleeping with this woman puts you in a position where you can gain information, then so be it. However, it's your choice."_

" _And let's face it,"_ Kristoff continued,  _"I'm pretty sure you were open to the idea before you found out who she was, anyway. No-strings fun with an assertive woman? The stuff of most single men's dreams…ow! I did say 'single'!"_

" _Look, Frost…"_ Anna began, and Jack could practically  _feel_ the glare of death she gave to her fiancée,  _"are you okay with this? I mean…what about your scar, and your powers?"_

"Guys! Gimme a minute, okay?" he snapped, and the other end of the line instantly fell silent.

Jack exhaled deeply through his nose as his brows furrowed into a deep frown – the alcohol-induced merriness and – if he was honest – horniness was still coursing through his body, and the fact that Kristoff and Neve were  _actually_ both suggesting sex for the chance of information was starting to overwhelm him – not to mention the fact that a rather heavy set of knocks on the bathroom door was a rather telling reminder that his time was running out.

He would effectively be using Astrid for information – and part of him was uncomfortable with the idea. The rest of him pointed out that she was a Valkyrie; a Ghost's natural enemy and the reason they had been operationally crippled. Astrid was the woman directly responsible for making Kozmotis' chest look like he had been through a blender, and he knew for a fact that if she was ever to learn of his real identity, only one of them would still be breathing when morning came. Not to mention the fact that she had no real intention of pursuing anything beyond a night of sexual release.

History was full of instances where spies slept with the enemy – hell, one of his favourite movies when the  _Star's_ movie night came around every Saturday – using the ancient disc reader and various 'DVDs' they had acquired over the many years of service – involved a spy from England that regularly bedded women on the opposing side.

"For Queen and country…" he murmured to himself.

" _Huh?"_  Anna's confused reply swam into his ears.

"Okay," he declared quietly, "I'm gonna do it. Snow White is right; I could learn a lot, but she'll get suspicious if I ask too many questions so I'm gonna search her apartment in the morning. Harvester…yeah, I'd be lying if I said I didn't find her hot. I'm up for some one night action. Streak…don't worry. I have a feeling she doesn't see eye-to-eye with Snow Queen so I don't think she knows about my scar…and my powers only freak out when I get too anxious. I've had too much booze to be anxious. I got this. Just…don't tell Pitch."

The knocking at the door was more forceful – and Jack knew his time was up.

"Wish me luck. For England, James…"

" _What the…who is-"_

He didn't hear the rest of Anna's bewildered reply as in one movement he rose from the toilet seat, dove his fingers into his right ear to remove the earpiece, immediately shoved it into the pocket of his pants and strode over to the sink opposite the cubicle – and just managed to turn on the cold faucet with a wave of his hand over the sensor and splash some water over his face and arms when Astrid burst into the bathroom and fixed him with a decidedly irate glare. For the first few seconds, Jack turned to blankly stare at her as he nursed the fleeting worry that she had somehow discovered his identity, and as always he subsequently endeavoured to hide it behind a wall of wit.

"Uh…the urinal-looking things on the wall means-" he deadpanned, but the words froze in his throat when Astrid marched towards him and punched him in the right shoulder.

"Hey!" he yelped, fiercely suppressing the second-nature reaction to retaliate in kind, "what was that for?"

"That was for making me wait longer than I wanted to!" she growled, and then completely dropped her incensed scowl as she took two handfuls of his tank top, yanked him forward and crashed her lips against his with a loud moan.

"And  _that_  was for making me wait. I don't wait for things, it makes me…impatient." she breathed in the brief few seconds of freedom before capturing his lips once more.

Bewildered by the complete switch in behaviour, Jack's hands hung uselessly at his side for a few seconds before his brain re-engaged, and he roughly spread them over both cheeks of her rear – a gesture she reciprocated by abruptly leaping at him and wrapping her legs around his hips, not once breaking the kiss. Jack was so taken aback that it was all he could do to quickly lift her onto the edge of the sink lest they collapse onto the linoleum floor, and he immediately broke the kiss to chide her for it.

"The hell, Astrid?" he gasped breathlessly, shooting her a glare that she immediately returned with a playful smirk.

"I was just testing your reflexes, and you passed. By the way, heads up!" she taunted as she released his tank top, and used her hands to push against the sink. With barely a moment to react, Jack sharply stumbled backwards with Astrid still wrapped around him, their combined momentum driving them into the empty cubicle behind them. Grunting in pain at the impact, Jack fell back against the unused toilet while Astrid remained astride him, her arms wrapped around his neck while her hips ground themselves against him.

"You're really…you planning on doing it  _here?"_  he winced against her mouth, noting that the area under his scar was still sensitive.

"No way, I'm just getting back in the mood. You're still coming back to my apartment." she purred seductively into his lips.

"…then what are we waiting for?" he smirked, causing her to giggle softly and bite her lip. Without another word she dismounted him, grabbed his wrist and yanked him upright, and then practically dragged him out of the cubicle and through the bathroom door. It was then that he noticed the absence of two people on the dancefloor, and it sent a trickle of worry in amongst the heat in his gut.

"Hey, where'd…Zach go?" he frowned as he scanned the gathering crowd by the dartboard.

"Rapunzel took him home. Why? You miss your buddy already?" Astrid asked as they reached the bar servery, her free hand diving down her top and into her bra to retrieve a fully loaded credit chip.

"Hell no," he said quickly, "I just feel sorry for Merida. You're taking me home; Zach went with Rapunzel…Red's all alone here."

"Pfft," Astrid scoffed as she handed over the chip to a male bar staff member, who looked a mite uncomfortable at the prospect of taking something that had been warmed up by her right breast, "she's beating all those guys at darts, and taking their credits for it. For Merida, that's a good night."

Jack craned his head in an attempt to see over the crowd of people, and chuckled as he heard a dozen-strong groan erupt through the air amidst a loud call of  _"hard luck, laddie! Next!"_

"Has anyone ever beaten her?" he asked curiously.

"Your buddy came close – which pissed her off, by the way – but other than him? Nope. She's the best there is at anything that involves throwing or shooting things." she explained as the staff member tossed the chip back like it was too hot, shooting him a glare in response. Jack took care to make a mental note in his addled mind – where possible, engage Merida in close combat A.S.A.P so she can't get a bead on you.

"Okay, I paid both of our tabs so we've got  _no_ reason to stick around. You ready?"

Jack cast a sidelong, coy look with a quirked eyebrow to finish, and with a confident curl of the left side of his lips…

"Are you?" he said playfully.

Astrid tossed him a taunting smirk before yelling to her squad-mate that she was leaving, a call that was returned with a cheerful  _"go on with ye, lassie! Don't ye break 'im too much, ye hear?"_

Jack wasn't precisely certain he liked the sound of that.

* * *

* * *

 

The journey to Astrid's apartment took roughly forty five minutes, similar to the last instance that Jack travelled to the Upper City, but that wasn't to say it was uneventful – and it felt a  _lot_  quicker.

For a start, any periods of time where they were not hurriedly walking was spent with their mouths bruising each other like neither of them had eaten in weeks, and he honestly lost count of how many moans escaped her throat only for them to be swallowed by his. In one instance, they were so involved in kissing each other in the support column's elevator that neither of them noticed they reached the Upper City ten minutes prior, and it took the rather pointed clearing of his throat from one of the two elevator checkpoint guards to bring the two horny people back to reality.

Getting through the checkpoint was interesting in and of itself, too.

As an inhabitant of the elite level, Astrid enjoyed a certain leeway when it came to the enforced curfew upon both levels –  _All inhabitants must be in their homes by midnight; anyone breaking the curfew will be arrested and imprisoned for four days without trial –_ but for a dweller in the Lower City, the enforcement was far stricter. The sheer number of times where Astrid was forced to use her Valkyrie identification card to get street guards and patrol units to back off approached the realm of ridiculous prior to their ascent, and the process was repeated as soon as Jack's fake I.D. was scanned by the Upper City guards. She could pass through, but he would be arrested, charged with disturbing the peace and attempting to enter the Upper City outside of allowed hours.

Naturally, this did not sit well with her –  _"See this card? This is a Valkyrie identification card. I am Valkyrie Second Astrid Hofferson, do you know what that means? It means I outrank your sorry, flatfooted ass…"_

Some of the language that his 'date' used bordered on the viciously offensive, so under the guise of not wanting to be near her if she exploded, Jack winced and backed away out of earshot while she chewed out the poor man, and wisely used the time to make a surreptitious call to Eugene's wrist communicator in the hope of warning him about precisely  _who_  was taking him home.

Unfortunately, his response came in five words –  _STOP TRYING TO COCKBLOCK ME –_ and an apologetic automated message from the scout's communicator telling him that it had been turned off. Eugene clearly had no intention of listening to what Jack had to say, and in the face of such blinkered ignorance the Ghost could only hope and pray that his friend didn't let anything slip.

Not ten seconds after the attempted warning, however, Astrid concluded the comprehensive verbal beat-down she administered to the bewildered sentinel, grabbed Jack's left wrist and dragged him away while making sure to mention that she subsequently had some stress to relieve, thereby leaving the Ghost with the impression that he was in for an excellent – and more than likely sore – night.

So, forty five minutes after leaving the bar, where liaisons were initiated, truths unearthed and decisions made, Jack found himself pressed against the wall next to Astrid's apartment door, her hands gripping his face while his laced themselves under her rich red top, their lips moving together in hungry synchronicity, tongues engaged in a game of violent tag as moans escaped one throat and were swallowed by the other. She was pressed so hard against him that he could feel her strapless bra under her top, and he  _knew_  she could feel the bulge in his pants – especially as her hips were involuntarily grinding against it.

She was self-assured, no doubt about that. Throughout the night she made no secret of her goal to take him home and fuck him senseless thereby satisfying her own desire to get laid, and in the morning promptly leave for whatever it was she wanted to do. Even his attempts to dominate during the dance shortly after finding out about her true career were met with equal force – he would wrap his arms to coyly restrain her, and she would promptly wriggle free, push him away and then yank him back by his tank top…a game of power in which neither side won.

Briefly, she released her strong hold of his head to delve her left hand into her bra, pulled the key-card out from its hiding place and, with her eyes closed in passionate enjoyment, she blindly waved it in front of the sensor to her left, and after a few unsuccessful swipes and more than a few annoyed growls, the black box finally beeped to grant them access. Jack was promptly yanked away from the wall and practically dragged into the apartment, and he took the time to take a few gulps of air before she slammed the door closed behind him with a well-aimed kick and promptly bruised their lips together once more. He felt her step forward to pin him against the door, but he wasn't about to have that.

As her foot left the ground, he pivoted on the balls of his right foot and made  _her_  take  _his_  place instead. An angry yet pleasured moan escaped her lips at the sudden reversal of power, and to emphasise the point he gripped her wrists and held them against the plastic of the door. Unexpectedly she did not resist it, and he capitalised on that by pulling away from that hungry mouth to drive his lips against her neck. There was no tenderness, no soft touch in his ministrations; just pure hunger and passion – a mirror of her fierceness.

"Oh, fuck…I swear to anything…ahhhh…if you stop, I will hurt you…" she growled – actually  _growled_ – at the forceful kisses and occasional nibbles, and he felt her shudder under him as he pressed his crotch against hers, with each moan being fuel for him to change direction and position…and before long, the space between her right ear and collarbone was covered in angry marks.

Given the aggressive playfulness between them, the need to be on top as it were, Jack wondered as to in what condition he would find himself in the morning.

However, the successful break for freedom by Astrid's hands destroyed that thought as, once she escaped from his grip, she entwined her fingers with the bottom hem of his tank top and yanked it upwards, a rough movement that interrupted his devouring of her neck and elicited a slight pain from his nose. In revenge – in a weird way, that was how he saw it – he did the same with hers, forcing her hands which had since been busying themselves with attempting to remove his pants to briefly pause, instead taking advantage of the arching of her back towards his chest to skilfully unclasp her bra, releasing her breasts as the gateway garment along with the identification card and credit chip clattered to the floor, forgotten.

Jack felt them return to the task of freeing his erection from his pants – but in a need to deprive her of getting what she wanted, he crouched a little while tracing forceful kisses down her neck towards her right nipple, and moved his other hand to the growing wetness between her legs in order to massage and rub her clitoris through the soft material of her leggings. Judging by the sharp moan that rang out throughout the darkened room, Jack smirked to himself with the knowledge that she actually went commando.

"Fuck, your…. _aaah_ ….fingers are goddamn magic…I hope your cock is… _shit, that's good_ …as well…" she breathed, one hand gripping his hair to hold him against her chest while the other massaged her left breast to stop it feeling jealous.

As one hand cupped her ample right breast while his lips suckled themselves around the nipple, his tongue flicked rapidly in every conceivable direction across the hardened bud, and as he felt the needing bucks of her crotch against his digit's aggressive manipulation of her clit, he took a perverse pleasure that he as a Ghost was the one dominating a Valkyrie – that is, until she let loose a frustrated growl, roughly pulled him up to slam him against the door, dropped to her knees at the same time as she yanked down his pants, and without waiting a single second slipped his hardened erection through her soft lips and into her mouth.

"Fucking hell…" he gasped as he damn near collapsed to the floor.

With her right fingers curled around the base of his dick while her left hand reached up to stroke and nearly scratch his toned abs, he felt his legs weaken as her head bobbed up and down, her tongue swirling against the tip as she pulled back and caressing his length as she moved forward, releasing moans and vibrations from her throat as well as jerking her fingers to heighten the sensation. Had he possessed a semblance of cognitive thought, he would have remarked upon the irony; for the Valkyrie being on her knees sucking  _him_  off, she essentially had him wrapped around her finger – more accurately, her right fingers and mouth – simply because his entire body turned to jelly with the acute pleasure. In a feeble attempt to feel in control, he swallowed a lump in his throat, placed a hand on the back of her head and weakly forced the issue, and her response was to take him so deep that he touched the back of her throat.

Nope, she had him hook, line and sinker.

"If you…keep…doing that, Astrid… _shit, so good_ …I'm going to come…"

From that, she had two options. She could either release him from the fuzzy storm of pleasure threatening to overwhelm his body, thereby giving him the illusion that he persuaded the headstrong Valkyrie had to cool off a little, or she could carry on and let him explode. Unfortunately for him…or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, she elected for the latter. He felt the suction increase as the bobbing of her head became even more urging, and when he reached the point of no return with a low, long curse and the tensing of his entire body, he let himself loose inside her hot, moist and waiting mouth – and in a moment of surprise that peaked through the orgasm ripping its way through him, he felt her throat begin to swallow every single drop of fluid.

Less than five minutes through the door and she already made him come. It wasn't exactly the way he thought it would go – but the night was still young. He figured he could always make up for his weakness later on.

Releasing his cock from her lips with a pop, she smirked up at him while her hand slowly jerked his length to ensure its continual hardness, causing a constant hitching of breath as her fingertips stroked the incredibly sensitive tip.

"Oh look, you came already, and I'm not even getting started." she teased coyly.

"Well…I did warn you…" he panted.

"Yup, and I ignored it. So here's what you're going to do: you're going to do the same for me until you're ready to go again – and you'd better last longer next time. Got it?"

Her exposed breasts jiggled as, without giving him the courtesy of a response, she shot to her feet and made her way to what he assumed to be the bedroom at the far left of the living room, her hands sliding the skirt from her hips as she walked. Jack stared after her with an open mouth as his mind attempted to work – he thought perhaps he could regain domination by rather than making her come quick, he could drag it out as long as possible. Perhaps she wouldn't realise his intention and smack him for his impertinence…or perhaps she would let him operate under the illusion that he was the one in control of her orgasm, much like she was for his.

As he pushed himself from the doorway and staggered towards the room she disappeared through…he wondered if he even cared.

As he passed butt naked through the doorway into her bedroom, he barely took notice of how messy the floor was with clothes strewn everywhere, posters of the holographic multi-instrumentalist  _Unitas_  adorning the opposite wall, and the moonlight streaming through the open blinds of her window. He was, however, more concerned with how Astrid was bending over to remove her leggings, giving him an unobstructed view of her well-toned ass and how it was gloriously illuminated by the moon's glow, like a sexually hungry siren calling him to his doom – and as she straightened up, stepped out of her leggings and cast him a seductive smirk over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of several scars on her back, and took a little dark pleasure in the knowledge that it was probably his kind that caused those injuries.

Silently she stepped over to her bed, climbed upon the undoubtedly soft mattress and rested her head against the pillows…and as a final tease or insult, curled her fingers at him in a way that screamed  _'come on then'_. With a growl he strode forward, mounted the bed and began the process of driving her insane.

As his crotch hovered teasingly above hers, his lips added more red marks to her neck as he kissed, sucked and bit into her skin, tracing a long and inelegant line down her chest towards her navel. She arched her back with a breathless moan of pleasure, offering her breasts to him which he gladly took in both hands, moving his mouth to roughly suck and nibble at her left nipple while his fingers teased her right. He felt her hands entwine themselves in his brown hair and tighten to the point that it hurt his scalp…but in a weird way, the pain was a turn on, telling him that he was doing his job right. _She_  expected him to go straight for her clit, but he was going to make her wait.

"I think… _oh, that's good_ …it's time you put your tongue to good use, huh?" she gasped, moans slipping out at every opportunity. Jack merely smirked and shook his head, a silent way to say  _'not yet'_.

His lips relinquished her nipple and continued the journey down the softness of her breast and along her abdomen, little licks punctuating the kisses as he did so. Stopping at her hip bone, he administered hungry and slightly painful bites into her skin, something she evidently enjoyed by the increasingly tight grip on his hair and the way her hips arched up towards him. Of course, the frustrated growl that slipped out was a clear indication that she was losing her patience, especially when it was combined with a harsh slap of his head and a hissed command to  _'get on with it!'_  – so…in an effort to avoid further violence, he moved his mouth along her crotch and settled just above her clitoris, the sensitive bud ready and waiting for him.

"Seriously, I'm done with the teasing…so get on with it or I swear I'm gonna ride your face." the tormented Valkyrie hissed, and with a smirk that hid his pleasure at her frustration, he obliged.

She let loose one of the loudest moans of the night so far as his lips encircled her clitoris, and more followed when he started to suck and flick his tongue over the sensitive point. She bucked her hips against his face whilst simultaneously holding his head where it was, and he soon learned to quickly take oxygen through his nose wherever possible as it wasn't likely she was going to let his mouth move away any time soon.

"Uhhh! I was right…that tongue is… _fuck_ …magic…" she panted, her back involuntarily arching from the bed while her free hand massaged and caressed her left breast, "I wanna see if your fingers are too. Do it! Make me… _aaaah_ …with your fingers!"

So he did. Pressing his left middle and index fingers together, he teased the tips along her soaking folds, each second eliciting further sounds of carnal pleasure from the Valkyrie at his so-called mercy, and once they were at the very entrance he slowly but surely slid his fingers inside her, the movement wholly aided by the fact that she was so ridiculously wet. She released a loud yelp and several curse words under the pleasure that was undoubtedly radiating through her writhing body, and Jack's ears drank in every one. He began to slide his digits in and out, curling them up inside to touch her G-spot when he felt like it, and when it was combined with the oral manipulation of her clitoris it took very little time for her to begin screaming his fake name to the walls, her crotch shuddering involuntarily against his mouth and fingers as the orgasm ripped its way through her entire body.

"Well that was…embarrassing…" she said with total lack of breath, "I thought…I'd last…longer than that…fuck me…that was amazing…"

Jack lifted his head just enough for her eyes to meet his, and with the intent of seeing her reaction, he slid his fingers from inside her and raised them to his mouth, sucking off every single drop of the bitter but addictive liquid.

"…and that was fucking hot. So hot, that you'd better be hard right now, because I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't know what day it is." she growled with a tone of horny determination.

"Why don't you find out?" he muttered challengingly while he rose to his knees and, with his legs either side of her body, shuffled up towards her head with his dick aimed proudly at her face. She wiggled her eyebrows a single time as a lop-sided smirk appeared on her lips, and craning her head up she encircled those same lips around his tip while wrapping her left hand around his length, applying a ridiculously strong level of suction that almost set him off again.

"Yep," she murmured huskily, "I'd say he's ready. You'd better have some energy left, 'cause you're gonna need it."

Jack was about to fire off a coy remark when she shuffled up the bed, placed her hands on his shoulders and swiftly pushed him over, leaving him surprised and on his back while she sat astride him. Her ponytail braid dangled down the left side of her face while she smirked victoriously at him, an expression that disappeared when she drove her lips to capture his in a hungry embrace…and with moans and growls that passed each other through the linked mouths, she grasped his length and lowered herself down onto him.

"Fuck…" she breathed as her lungs stalled with pleasure, "it's bigger than I thought…"

"You can…ah, back out if you want…I might call you a…coward though…"

"Fuck you and…your taut little ass. I'm on top, so what I say goes…and I say I'm gonna ride you for all you're worth." she hissed against his lips, the dirty talk sending the heat in his stomach to unthinkable levels and making his encompassed dick all the harder.

"Then put your credits where that amazing mouth is and hop to it, soldier." he growled.

Grinning, she met his challenge and began to buck her hips against him; slowly at first while she enjoyed the sensation of her abdomen, chest and sensitive breasts against him, and devoured his lips with voracious movements of hers, occasionally eliciting a hiss of pain whenever she teasingly bit his lower lip as a surge of pleasure shot through her. Forcing the issue, he roughly rubbed his hands down her body which shuddered in enjoyment, spread themselves on both cheeks of her ass and gripped them hard, throwing in a sharp spank every now and then – something she evidently enjoyed, as the sound of skin slapping skin caused a pleasured yelp and the digging of her nails in his chest.

Needing to feel more of him inside her, she rose upright and dragged her nails down his pecs, prompting another sharp slap of her ass, another yelp of enjoyment and a harder buck against him. He felt her core contract against his dick, a movement of unbelievable tightness that made it even more difficult to keep from letting himself go, and in a desperate move to distract his mind he administered one last spank and swiftly rubbed his hands around her abdomen, driving them up and grasping her breasts with rough need and lustful desire.

Judging by the closed eyes, breathless moans and harder bucking of her hips, she seemed to relish that – but what she enjoyed  _more_ was grabbing his wrists, diving forward and pinning them against the mattress, effectively rendering him powerless against her. He tried to resist, to overpower the restraint but it was no use, with practically her entire body weight pressing down on his arms and no leverage to speak of…he was beaten.

And he liked it.

"Uh…Astrid? I…I think… _fuck, that's hot_ …I'm about to…" he grunted, each word a herculean effort as his brain was forced to make the choice between simple speech and slowing his arrival to Ejaculation Station.

"Oh no…no you don't…I'm coming first, you hear me? You don't… _aaah, so good_ …get to come before I do…" she hissed.

Astrid's riding of him took on a frantic level as her moans became louder and louder and her hips jerked back and forth like a woman possessed, to the point that the bed banged heavily against the wall like a percussive beat to her growing yells of pleasure, and with a final scream of his fake name, she gave herself over to a potent orgasm that cascaded through her entire being, leaving no part of her body untouched by its electric storm of euphoria.

As her core gripped his length with the involuntary contraction and drew him further inside, he was left with no choice but to let himself go too with a growl of her name, releasing all he had into the searing wet heat inside her – something that evidently heightened the experience judging by the shudder that coursed through her sweating body and a renewed series of delighted moans.

In a moment of clarity, he did what he never thought he would do and mentally gave thanks to Unity's regime – specifically, mandatory contraception before government-approved marriage.

She collapsed on top of him, her breasts pressing into his chest and her nose nestled just by his, their lips just brushing against each other as hot breaths mingled in the expanse between, the desire for oxygen overriding the craving to kiss…but she did allow herself to giggle victoriously.

"Well…that was…definitely something." she eventually murmured into his mouth, letting his body support her full weight – but oddly, not letting him slip out from inside her.

"Oh yeah…you really know what you want…" he breathed.

"Damn right, and I want more."

"You…want more?"

"Hell yeah. Here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna get us some drinks, let you recover for a little while, and then we're gonna do it again. I've got a few more positions I wanna try before I let you get some sleep. Capisce?" she grinned, letting loose a satisfied giggle.

Jack sensed that any argument he had against her commands would be futile, so with an alternatingly fearful mind and an aroused-everything-else, he nodded against her – before quickly stealing a kiss.

The rest of the night went much the same way. Screams were released, moans escaped, limbs and hands remained tangled for hours with only short breaks in between, and it wasn't until dawn broke in the Upper City and cast the room of sexual conquest in an amber glow, with her naked, smooth and heavily sweating body draped across his that he was finally able to rest, his bruised and spent body relishing every second that he was not being fucked for all he was worth.

He had a sneaking suspicion that when he woke up in a few hours, he would hate himself for giving in to the primal urges and sleeping with his natural enemy even if it  _was_  sanctioned…but at that moment, with the morning sunrise caressing his skin as he slipped into a deep slumber, he felt at peace with being used.

The reason for his pragmatic attitude was the knowledge that even though he would catch hell from Kozmotis if he ever learned of that night; he knew that if Astrid's colleagues and commanding officer ever found out she slept with Jack Frost – her punishment would be beyond compare.

So maybe he didn't really lose after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go.
> 
> I asked my other half, and also a friend for advice as to whether I should post this chapter or not given the attitudes to pairings nowadays, and was met with two opinions both stating that if it is part of the plot or creates conflict later on in the story (which it definitely does), then it should be in there. Hence, it is.
> 
> Like I said, while I enjoy the exploration of their two personalities, specifically what happens when two stubborn and headstrong characters hook up, they aren't going to be a pairing in this.
> 
> Either way, I'm ready for the firing squad now. Fire at will.


	15. Into the Dark: Part Two

For what felt like an eternity, an excruciating eternity that was filled with naught but the silence around him, the thudding of his fearful heart and the sound of his rapid breaths, Hiccup's flashlight remained locked upon the empty doorway while Kozmotis' words repeated themselves over and over again in his mind.

" _We're not alone."_

He had already witnessed the severed spine, torn limb and gouged ribcages that attested to the unbridled ferocity of one of those 'experiments', but the knowledge that four others had escaped and were more than likely hiding in the pitch black darkness of the Science District twisted Hiccup's stomach to what could accurately be defined as a double knot.

The effect on his other senses of being effectively blind – aside from an unnaturally dazzling beam emanating from his flashlight –was acute and intense. The normally imperceptible disturbance of the water under their feet sounded like a tidal wave as Kozmotis shifted his weight in preparation to move; the air smelled infinitely more fetid than before, and it  _tasted_  of decay – he desperately tried to will away the grim thought and accompanying nausea derived from the sensation that he was, in essence, tasting the deaths of three scientists and an experiment.

Kozmotis stalked towards the open doorway, his G36 trained at the empty space ready for any warped creatures to announce their presence, his steps slow and deliberate. Mimicking him, Hiccup crept forward and to the right, neither man uttering a word as they carefully moved towards and took flanking positions on either side of the door and aimed their rifles downwards.

As per the concept of noise discipline – or as Kristoff liked to call it  _"keep-it-down-or-they-will-hear-you-discipline"_  – Hiccup retrieved the mask from his belt with his left hand and held it over his mouth, while his other hand temporarily slid the P90 under his left upper arm in order to thread the mask's two straps through the special plastic hoops, then looped them back on themselves to secure it tightly across the base of his skull. With the masks, they could speak in whispers and still be heard.

Had there been enough ambient light then they would have utilised their night vision, but without starlight or the moon's glow present for the goggles to intensify and relay to his eyes, they were effectively useless – and the flashlight would be more likely to blind them than help them.

He tried to force down the trickle of dread that their only light source in a maze of concrete tunnels would be the thin flashlight, and he deeply suspected that no mask or even the presence of a P90 would help to temper the worry and alertness.

To be a dragon-rider required a vast reservoir of bravery…but in that moment, Hiccup was scared. Focused, responsible and adaptable, but scared.

"Ready?" Kozmotis murmured, and Hiccup automatically gave him the  _a-ok_  sign with his free hand, "three…two…one…"

Fluidly, they whirled around the doorway with their weapons raised, their aim steady and their fingers cautiously resting on the triggers. Kozmotis stalked towards the corridor's entrance as he darted his rifle left and right, and Hiccup quickly turned in a wide circle whilst he followed, taking care to flick his light at every conceivable ambush spot and each long-dead skeleton.

The room of decayed corpses was as still and quiet as it was when they first entered.

"Clear." Kozmotis murmured the obvious as he lowered his rifle, his head turned toward the open doorway that led to the district's corridor. Hiccup took a few seconds to relax his muscles and attempt to calm his heart as he moved to stand beside his ally, acutely aware that in his tense state of hyper-awareness there was every chance he could accidentally squeeze the trigger – even if the bullets did not tear through him or his squad-mate, it would definitely give away their position.

"Just so we're on the same page—we're trapped in a freaking huge underground facility, with four crazies on the loose. Does that sound about right?" Hiccup rhetorically asked with no desire for an answer – he received one anyway.

"Correct. Not only that, but if one of them can brutally slaughter three scientists, they are not merely hostile but exceptionally dangerous too." Kozmotis answered, prompting Hiccup to audibly groan.

"Great. Next time I'm going to read the small print on the vacation brochure 'cause  _'cool climate, crisp air and chance of feral mutants'_  just doesn't cut it, somehow."

"Sounds like my kind of holiday." Kozmotis chortled, and Hiccup could practically  _see_  the smirk behind the taller man's mask.

"Colour me shocked." Hiccup snarked as he shook his head with exasperation.

"I'm serious," Kozmotis said as he moved over to press the side of his body against the door's right frame, "I haven't been able to indulge in gratuitous violence since the Battle of the Depot, so hunting intelligent creatures that have the capability of-"

"Wait wait wait. Back it up. Did you just say  _intelligent?_ " Hiccup gaped as he moved to occupy the space on the other side of the door, and hoped his cocked head would accurately convey his incredulity.

"Yes. I have the oddest feeling that this power outage is not coincidental."

Hiccup's stomach twisted. It made sense; the power cut was far too spontaneous to be anything but planned – and it added a new dimension of worry in his heart – not only did four experiments escape from the incubation tanks, but the idea that they could  _think_?

"My question is how they woke up." Kozmotis asked no-one in particular.

Hiccup briefly paused as he considered the question; none of the scientists were alive to manually awaken them, and even if someone  _did_  survive the attack they would have died of starvation decades ago – and the experiments sure as hell didn't do it themselves. The only other reason that he could think of at that moment was an error in the tanks' monitoring software – something that could be caused by a variety of things.

Including…

"I should've known…" he muttered as he closed his eyes in stark comprehension and a little shame.

"What?" Kozmotis asked interestedly.

"When Unity grows domestic pets to order, they put them in incubation tanks to accelerate their growth, right? Each tank runs off the main power grid, with a backup miniature generator in case something goes wrong. Thing is, too much power and you can prematurely wake up whatever is inside. That's what happened here." Hiccup explained grimly.

"The power surge." Kozmotis finished in complete understanding.

"Bingo. When I hooked up the cell, the surge must have overloaded the tanks and woke those…things…out of hibernation."

Hiccup rested his back against the wall as he bowed his head, and guiltily covered his face with his free hand.

"This is my fault. I set those things loose." he groaned sadly. Had the room not been in total darkness, nor had they both been wearing masks, he would have seen the incredulous and exasperated look Kozmotis shot him.

"How would you have known? You only just found out about Toothless' true origin. Anyway, it doesn't matter – you may have actually done us a favour."

"What in the wide world of sports do you mean by that?" Hiccup frowned as he turned his head towards his compatriot, pointlessly tossing him an expression of unseen disbelief.

"We're going to kill them all." Kozmotis stated bluntly as he readjusted the G36's stock against his shoulder in preparation.

"We're…" Hiccup trailed off when he felt his heart involuntarily clench.

"Yes. I know you don't like killing, but these experiments are too dangerous to be allowed to roam around the base when the  _Star_  arrives. It's up to us to hunt all four down." the taller Ghost explained with barely restrained glee– and whether he agreed or not, Hiccup knew he was right.

One creature tore three scientists apart. The chaos that  _four_  of them could cause when fifteen hundred abnormals arrive would be catastrophic – and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to the children.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Hiccup asked with a thinly veiled edge of sarcasm.

"Maybe a little." Kozmotis chuckled as he twisted to peek around the doorframe and, satisfied that it was clear, elegantly swept into the corridor. Hiccup shouldered his P90 as he followed, his ears open and his eyes alert for any sound or sight of their elusive targets.

Their footsteps were silent and methodical as they made their way back to the main corridor, and Hiccup made sure to regularly twist around and check their six in case they were being tailed by their prey.

There was nothing behind them, and Kozmotis had not caught sight of anything ahead either. For all intents and purposes, the concrete tunnels were as still, and empty as they had been when Hiccup journeyed through not twenty minutes prior. He began to wonder if the  _pat-pat-pat_  of light feet they heard earlier was a figment of his imagination, a product of the intrinsic creepiness of the Science District. Ghosts of the past that still haunted the corridors, derived from the mind's dark flights of fancy upon learning the details of horrific experiments and even more terrible results.

As they walked, he wondered how it was possible that the creatures survived for so long – if the scientific trials were carried out around the time of the Third World War, it meant that they were at  _least_  fifty years old. It shouldn't be possible, he thought, there should be no realistic way that those creatures survived for so long…but his gift, his ability to rapidly make sense of complex engineering, mechanical and technological processes told him it  _was_  possible – via induced hibernation.

He involuntarily theorised that when the ill-fated scientist activated the containment protocol, the redundant generator kicked in and continued to feed power to the only room in the district requiring it, and once that ran dry the internal batteries of the incubation tanks took over and kept the power running.

Stuck in a perpetual state of hibernation, the biological processes of the experiments would have slowed to a crawl, needing only the bare minimum of oxygen and nutrients to keep them alive. In theory – now in practice – they were functionally immortal so long as they still had power and essential vitamins, proteins and carbohydrates. Had Hiccup not accidentally created the surge, the four creatures could have slept through the eventual arrival of his kind – and stirred when power would eventually be restored to the entire facility.

They would have awoken amidst fifteen hundred men, women and children moving in – and they would have been hungry. Maybe Kozmotis was right. Maybe the accidental power surge was fortuitous.

There was another notion that crossed his mind, one that he compartmentalised for when he was out of danger and free to think clearly for as long as he wanted: Toothless. If he was born around the same time as the creatures were created…that would mean his best friend was over fifty years old and more than twice his age.

Yet the black-scaled dragon showed zero signs of time's wear upon his body; he was still as sprightly as when Hiccup found him hiding in his family's barn in Zone Nine, once Minnesota. In fact, he wondered if the experiments themselves had aged – maybe one of those sheets of paper in the room of death would reveal the truth.

"I guess we should count our blessings…" he murmured quietly into his mask, and noticed the acknowledging split-second incline of Kozmotis' head to the right as he spoke.

"What's that?"

"Toothless should still be by the containment doors. He probably figured out something is wrong by now, so even if he's scared to enter he's in a good position to see something. Dragons have better night vision than we do, even with these gizmos." Hiccup explained.

"Good. He would have kicked up a storm if he saw anything, so at least we know they're still in the district – it makes our job easier." Kozmotis said with a relieved lilt that the rider did not miss.

"All the same," Hiccup muttered as he did one last rear check before they passed into the long main corridor that bisected the district, "I'd feel better if-"

The  _pat-pat-pat_ of bare feet far to their left echoed through the corridor, moving from their side to the opposite.

"-what was that?" he breathed as both Ghosts whirled around to aim their flashlights towards it – and saw nothing but grey stone.

"Our first target." Kozmotis muttered with predatory playfulness.

The taller Ghost quickly crept in the direction of the footsteps while Hiccup carefully followed, now making  _doubly_  sure to check their six every few seconds. The conversations between them along with his internal musings had led to the sprouting of complacency within him – and he knew it was something that could get him killed.

It was as he completed another revolution that he noticed Kozmotis' arm raise with his fist clenched; a silent order to hold position. Hiccup then dropped to one knee, pointed the P90 at their rear, and cautiously rested his finger upon the trigger. He felt a gentle rush of air as Kozmotis squatted to the ground, and heard the sound of rubber scraping against concrete as something was picked up.

"Oxygen mask…" Kozmotis muttered quietly, "we're on the right track…oh, now this is curious…"

"What?" Hiccup hissed as he craned his head forward. He was sure he saw a shadow dart across the corridor barely visible against the blanket of black, and was equally sure that the resultant rise of the hairs on the back of his neck was not due to the chilly, recently ventilated air.

"Part of it was melted. Something burned…no… _ate_  through the mask."

Hiccup couldn't resist his curiosity any longer, and turned away from his vantage point to squat by Kozmotis and peer at the mask in his hands. He was right; a deformed and misshapen hole existed where the mouthpiece of the mask should be, framed by liquefied clear plastic.

It was then that he noticed a sequence of dark spots on the floor near his ally's right foot, one after the other that trailed their way to the closest wall. Carefully, he rose to his feet and followed the convoluted line until they reached a pair of heavy-duty cables that rose from the floor and into the ceiling. As his eyes traced their way up the thick wires, he felt his breath pause when they rested upon something that  _definitely_  looked out of place.

"Ouch, now that's comprehensive." he quietly deadpanned, his words enough to turn Kozmotis' attention from the oxygen mask.

The smooth, thick cables that adhered to the wall were severed halfway by a crater of molten rubber, as though a substance had eaten through the protective sheath to expose and damage the wiring inside. Hiccup slowly released his left hand from the P90's front grip and reached a finger towards the melted sheath, and was an inch away from touching it when Kozmotis' hand lashed out, gripped his wrist, and yanked it away.

"That's acid." Kozmotis pointed.

"You mean one of them-"

Another set of rapid footsteps echoed through the tunnels, and Hiccup felt his heart shoot into his mouth in surprise – especially as they sounded heavier.

"They're getting closer." he muttered.

"That they are." Kozmotis said in agreement as he moved around the rider and quietly continued down the corridor with his G36 raised. Quietly, Hiccup followed suit, and it was as he turned around to check their six once more that he saw something dash to the right across his vision – and its manner of travel was altogether innovative.

"Contact!" he hissed, and without a second's hesitation scrambled towards the darkened tunnel that the creature disappeared into, slamming himself against the wall near the tunnel's corner. He breathed in through his nose and out of his mouth three times before whirling round to point his P90 at the darkened recess – and saw nothing. He felt the tap of Kozmotis' finger on his shoulder as the taller Ghost swept past him, a silent signal of ' _I'm-going-to-move-past-you-please-don't-shoot-me'_ , and though his gaze was fixed upon the pitifully illuminated tunnel, he could see Kozmotis' body relax in his peripheral vision.

"Something was there. I saw it." Hiccup muttered through gritted teeth.

"I believe you. Did you get a good look?" Kozmotis asked as he swivelled around to check behind him.

"I only saw it for a second, but— _oh yeah_ —I saw it…"

"Do tell."

"Well, you know how you're Mr Tall, Dark and Scary? What I saw was Mr Short, Thin and Crawls-On-Ceilings." Hiccup said in a low tone, and for a fleeting moment was proud of his wit.

"Lovely. Now we have to check above us as well, because one of them is Spider-Man." Kozmotis snarled irritably.

"Spider-what?" Hiccup asked, completely oblivious to the name. Kozmotis had a habit of not sharing anything historically interesting that he acquired through various means, which meant any references he made went over everybody's heads.

"He's a character in a-contact!"

Kozmotis squeezed the trigger and sent a burst of fire towards the opposite tunnel just as Hiccup swung his P90 around, the miniature staccato explosions heralding bullets that tore through the air towards their target. White spots danced in the left of the rider's vision, a result of the three round burst muzzle flash.

"I missed. He's surprisingly fast." Kozmotis grumbled.

"Was it the same one?" Hiccup asked, internally grumbling at the ringing in his ears.

"No. Imagine Harvester if he spent the last three years doing nothing but weightlifting."

"Wow, we have Spider-Man and The Incredible Harvester. What's next?" Hiccup groaned.

"My sentiments exactly," Kozmotis muttered, and then twisted around to face the rider as the subtext behind his sarcastic words became apparent, "wait…you've stolen one of my graphic novels, haven't you?"

"…maybe."

Kozmotis shook his head in exasperation and hissed something about  _'hiding my stash when we return to the Star'_  as he swiftly moved in the direction of his previously fired bullets, and with a final check of their six – as well as a quick glance at the ceiling – Hiccup followed.

A minute passed with nothing but silence to fill the air, no sounds of running feet or anything else to break up the deathly quiet, and without the fleeting appearances of the two experiments to distract him, Hiccup felt the mild claustrophobia begin to set in as he swivelled to his nine, six and three o'clock. He became acutely aware of how his chest began to tighten along with the race of his heart, and he swallowed thickly to try and wet his dry mouth. He was someone who revelled in the open air and wide spaces, who was at home in the clear blue sky, who preferred the rush of clean air against his face rather than the stagnant stillness of the Science District. It was why he chose to sleep in the  _Star's_  hangar bay at night rather than his personal quarters; he felt infinitely more comfortable in the vast space populated only by six  _Hela-class_  dropships, six target cylinders, several supply crates and one dragon.

Stuck in a maze of concrete tunnels that felt like they were bearing down on him with every footstep and every second, with no visible way out and every direction looking exactly the same…it was anathema to him. Not to mention the four creatures.

But, he was a Ghost – and sometimes that meant pushing through your fears and anxieties to get the job done.

As he passed through the main corridor, the metaphorical tree trunk from which dozens of similar concrete branches sprouted to form a darkened maze, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with their pursuit of the experiments. The fact that so far they actively avoided engaging the two Ghosts was something that began to weigh heavily on his mind; he would only get a brief sighting of them before they vanished into the dark, and the only indication as to their constant presence was the  _pat-pat-pat_  of bare feet on the hard floor. It was almost like the Ghosts were being toyed with.

It continued for a solid ten minutes; a humanoid shape at the very limits of the flashlight's range, which quickly melted into the dark the second they fired or gave chase.  _"Contact!" "Engaging!" "Lost him…"_ became a mantra uttered with disheartening repetition, and if the entities possessed a sense of humour, Hiccup was under the impression that two of them were playing hide-and-seek while the other two were silently cackling their lungs out.

A playground game where the winner was the only one left alive.

"Come out come out wherever you are…" Kozmotis sang softly into his mike as he made a sharp left about eight feet ahead, towards what Hiccup believed to be the infirmary section, disappearing out of sight.

As he passed a corridor labelled  _Dentistry_  to his left, he was about to question his ally's seemingly nonchalant approach to their situation with a sarcastic remark when he felt something that sent a wet trickle of alarm down his spine – the inimitable standing-up of the hairs on his skin and the almost imperceptible sensation of warm breath on the back of his neck.

His lungs froze as he whirled around with enough speed to jar his knees, and pointed the P90's barrel directly behind him, making sure to quickly flick the flashlight upwards – and saw nothing but grey.

"Pitch?" he murmured as he slowly, carefully moved forward, retracing his steps past the  _Dentistry_ corridor. There was no answer, nothing but silence, and stillness…

…and someone else's breathing.

His body went rigid, and his heart shot into his throat as his stomach dropped to his feet. It was close…close enough for him to  _feel_  the touch of its breath on the right side of his face, enough to be able to tell that it was inhaling through gritted teeth. Frozen in step by the realisation, Hiccup felt his own breaths come shallow and rapid, and was half-deafened by the thunderous pulse in his ears. Whatever it was, it had not attacked – but he knew that the slightest movement would be all it took.

He needed to make it count.

Quicker than he ever thought possible, he swivelled to the right and shone the P90's light directly at where he guessed its mouth was, catching the briefest of glimpses in the process. Dazzled by the beam, it screeched in pain and instantly tore its hands from the wall to cover its eyes – thereby becoming a victim of gravity and crashing to the floor. Hiccup had the advantage – all he would have needed to do was to flick the P90's barrel down and squeeze the trigger.

One down, three to go…but hesitation froze his fingers, and it cost him his position.

He only just lowered the flashlight in time to see the creature scramble to its feet and blindly leap at him with a feral  _rawk_ , one arm covering its eyes while the other reached its obscenely long and sharp fingernails towards his face. His subsequent reflexive weave to the left in addition to the creature's blind aim meant that all it did was collide with his right shoulder, but it was dense enough to knock him off balance and force him to stagger backwards a few steps. Sensing its advantage, the creature leapt from the floor to adhere all four limbs to the wall, then pushed off to thrust itself once more at Hiccup with unnatural speed. Recovering from the attack, Hiccup tried to level his P90 at the creature, but it was too fast for him – he felt the heavy impact of a humanoid body against his as well as the P90 flying from his fingers and clattering to the ground a foot away, with its flashlight mercifully pointed at the struggle.

He fell to the ground with a pained grunt as he quickly craned his head up to avoid it hitting the concrete floor, and as he heard another  _rawk_  he felt the creature push against him as it jumped onto the wall, leapt onto the ceiling, and thrust itself at him with its fingers outstretched. Hiccup's hands reflexively lunged out to grip its wrists, his teeth gritted with exertion as he forced the creature's arms across its chest – and came face to face with that which caused his hesitation as it struggled and thrashed its upper body against his superior strength.

It wasn't just the slimy translucent skin that covered the creatures body or the faintly visible musculature underneath, nor was it the array of thin, razor-sharp teeth that adorned its jaw as its lips were split in a menacing hiss, or the fact that it was completely naked. It was the creature's face; whatever experimentation had been conducted upon it had altered the bone structure of its head. Its eye sockets were pronounced and slightly protruded on either side of its face; a bony growth traced a line from its forehead, through its hooked nose to its chin in one smooth curve, and its pupils were dilated to the point that they were black eclipses against a white sclera. Hiccup knew that once upon a time it was human, but now it was something  _else_.

The creature craned its head away and opened its jaws to an unnaturally gaping width, and he just about moved his head left to avoid a spray of liquid that shot from its throat and splashed on the floor beside him – and the resultant hiss near his right ear spoke volumes. The liquid was acid. This was the creature that cut the power to bathe the district in inky darkness – thus giving  _them_  the advantage.

Its head lunged forward and snapped at his mask with its viciously pointed teeth, uttering enraged  _rawks_  each time its attacks fell short. Hiccup hissed a loud curse as he held the creature at bay, wondering where the hell Kozmotis was and why he wasn't here to help.

His thudding pulse reached the realm of fearful speed as he felt his grip on the creature's wrists begin to give way to the slimy skin and its feral thrashing, and his eyes widened in fear when, with its face contorted in rage it drew open its jaw – he wouldn't be able to move his head out of the way again to avoid the acid spray. If it could melt rubber and metal, it would easily be able to eat through his mask…and his face. He summoned one last burst of energy to thrust the creature away from him…

…and felt his heart shoot into his mouth as the right side of the creature's head exploded, spraying crimson liquid, bone and grey matter over the wall and the floor beside him.

Its lifeless body slumped down onto his chest, leaking blood and brain fragments onto his utility vest, and he realised how long he had been holding his breath by how his chest rose and fell in deep, rapid, gasping bursts.

Kozmotis stood over them with his G36's flashlight pointed at the corpse, his head cocked to the side in curiosity as he regarded the creature. Feeling his lungs slowly return to a semblance of normality, Hiccup grunted as he forced the dead weight off his chest and rolled to the right to prop himself up on his elbow. Kozmotis extended his left hand towards him, which Hiccup gratefully gripped and used to pull himself to his feet.

"Are you injured?" Kozmotis asked quietly as he released Hiccup's arm and drew the light over to his chest. The rider took a moment to mentally assess the damage – and was exceedingly relieved to note that he was completely unscathed.

"No. Well, nothing but my pride and probably my dry-cleaning bill." he muttered self-deprecatingly as he looked down at the mess of claret and grey upon his vest.

"You were lucky." Kozmotis pointed out.

"You don't have to tell me twice." The rider groaned.

"Good." Kozmotis chided as he swept away towards the discarded P90. He picked it up with his left hand and promptly returned to forcefully thrust it against Hiccup's chest, enough to cause him to be pushed back.

"Pull the trigger next time, Haddock."

The taller Ghost swept off toward the main corridor without another word, leaving a mildly dumbfounded Hiccup to stare after him in annoyed surprise.

" _Pull the trigger next time, Haddock!"_  he repeated in a mockingly high pitch, throwing in a middle finger to Kozmotis' retreating back for flavour.

"I heard that."

"You're a dick. Did you hear that too?" Hiccup snarked.

"Yes I did, and thank you." Kozmotis agreed.

Silently grumbling at his squad-mate's comment, Hiccup shouldered his weapon once more and stalked behind the black-haired Ghost, busying himself with twisting round every five seconds to check behind them.

"What were you following when you – y'know – left me alone?"

"I only caught a glimpse of it, but the creature I was following looked a little like yours. It was slender, agile, and it had four bony claws similar to my sand-tendrils sticking out of its spine." Kozmotis explained matter-of-factly, and Hiccup shuddered at the mental image.

With the knowledge that their foes had been reduced in number, Hiccup spent the next few minutes nursing a small amount of confidence and relief as they continued on towards the bisecting corridor. With the two of them working together, and Kozmotis' newfound urge to check that he was still following, Hiccup felt the blossom of hope that they might make it through the night in one piece, and not even the silence that followed the struggle, a silence unbroken by lightly running feet or yells of  _"Contact!"_  could dampen it. Of course, Kozmotis had to give in to his habit of darkening any situation.

"They'll be more aggressive now." he quietly observed.

"… _more_? How exactly can they be  _more_?" Hiccup hissed incredulously.

"They will know we killed one. They will know that we are a credible threat, so they will come at us harder…and faster." Kozmotis explained. Hiccup was sure he heard a wavering note of worry in his ally's usually calm and smooth tones, as though clues were falling into place in his mind and he didn't particularly like the finished puzzle.

"Great. I'll add  _'pissed off'_  to  _'chance of feral mutants'_." Hiccup groaned with thick sarcasm in his low voice.

"Oh, stop whining, Haddock. Honestly, it's like-"

Kozmotis' exasperated complaint was brutally interrupted by a harsh  _brawwwm brawwwm_  that reverberated throughout the thick tunnels, their concrete walls intensifying the ear-splitting noise rather than dampening it. Red warning lights burst into life and revolved from their evenly spaced positions near the ceiling, forcing the two Ghosts to squint as they bathed the once-dark tunnels in an unforgiving ruby hue.

"The hell is that?!" Kozmotis shouted to make his voice heard over the din as his head whipped side to side.

"If I had to guess," Hiccup yelled, "I'd say it was some kind of alarm!"

"Thank you, Captain-Fucking-Obvious! Alarm for what, you sarcastic twerp?" Kozmotis barked as he rounded upon him. Hiccup smirked behind his mask, feeling gratified in his minor revenge.

"How should I know?" he yelled, "Only thing I can think of is…"

Hiccup's smirk swiftly dropped along with his stomach, and judging by the widening of Kozmotis' golden eyes that matched his expression of horrified realisation, he knew exactly what the alarm was heralding.

The containment door.

He turned on a dime and bolted back the way they came, passing several corridors on either side including the one where the acid-spitting creature lay. He was neither concerned with any of those tunnels, nor was he concerned with the briefest glimpse in his peripheral vision of a wiry woman crouched within the shadows of a room to his right, observing him. All that mattered was getting to the containment door ahead before it closed; the panic and fear driving his thudding boot steps.

Thirty feet away; the heavy steel door was halfway down. Toothless might still be outside in the foyer, and would be trapped on the other side. He didn't know what was more terrifying; the idea that he would be stuck in a district with Kozmotis – not to mention three violent creatures – or the fact that he would be separated from his best friend.

Twenty feet; his legs, arms and chest yelled profanities of fatigue at his brain but he drove ever onward, ignoring the painful side stitch in his lungs. The door was a quarter of the way from closing, with its metallic grinding a stark indication that his time was running out. He forced more speed from his limbs, and was in danger of toppling over and scraping his face the rest of the way.

He was less than eight feet away when a heavy thud told him what he least wanted to hear – the containment door had reached the ground, its dull grey colour mocking their attempt to escape.

"Dammit!" he hissed, and then proceeded to clench his right fist and slam it against the door as he yelled as loudly as his exhausted lungs would allow, "Toothless! Toothless!"

He kept banging even as the deafening alarm ceased along with the blinking out of the warning lights, once more bathing the entire district in impenetrable darkness, save for their flashlights.

" _Stop."_ Kozmotis' voice came through his earpiece loud and clear, and it sounded…unnerved. Hiccup ignored his ally's hissed command and continued to hammer his fist against the metal containment door.

" _Haddock!"_

"What?!" the panicked rider snarled as he ceased hammering the door and rounded on the thin cone of light radiating from his ally's G36, which was zipping left and right.

" _Don't you get it? The power outage, the containment doors…one of them knew to hit the alert button to trap us here, and_ you _are giving away our position! Shit, I was afraid of this…"_ Kozmotis' voice quietly emanated from the rider's earpiece.

"Afraid of what?" Hiccup mumbled, acutely aware of how the trickle of fear in his spine derived from spatial awareness became all the more intense.

" _We are not hunting them. They are hunting_ us."

Whatever realisation or comprehension that was supposed to go through Hiccup's mind went out of the metaphorical window and into the metaphorical night sky when, as soon as his own flashlight rested upon Kozmotis' upper body in preparation for the rider to worriedly ask for clarification, Kozmotis was yanked face-first to the ground with a pained howl and audibly dragged away to the right by something unseen, hidden in the shadows that surrounded the flashlight's beam. His G36 clattered helplessly to the floor with its own light pointed uselessly away. Hiccup barely had time to react; the tall Ghost was there one second, gone the next.

"Pitch!" he yelled, kicking his adrenaline-infused legs into action as he sprinted bravely towards the discarded rifle. Upon reaching his ally's last confirmed position, Hiccup snapped his P90 at the tunnels on either side of him that joined the main corridor, hoping that he was quick enough to catch a glimpse of where the black-haired man was taken.

He wasn't. There was nothing but concrete grey walls, a few doors here and there, and impenetrable black ink surrounding a pitifully dim flashlight.

Hiccup kept his P90 levelled in the direction he presumed a creature took him, desperately fighting to keep his breathing controlled and his heart steady as the unwelcome notion his only ally in this godforsaken district was probably dead if not M.I.A., and that he was all alone versus two of the other experiments. Whatever the case, he knew he had to save his friend, and as he quickly crept forward into the darkened tunnel, he kept his ears open for any sounds of struggle that would tell him which way to go – and if he was too late.

A sound that did reach his ears from somewhere behind him in the direction of the containment door, however, was  _not_  of a battle. Nor was it the sound of Kozmotis' voice issuing witty taunts to enrage the creature.

It was the sound of bone scraping against concrete.

Hiccup whirled around and half-squeezed the P90's trigger in preparation, and then slowly – carefully – inched his way back towards the main nexus corridor…and as his beam of light rested upon the source of the noise, he let out a gasp of  _"oh…shit"_  before his lungs froze.

Thirty feet away, illuminated by the faint glow of the flashlight stood the third creature jokingly called 'The Incredible Harvester', though Kozmotis' description did not do it justice. It was easily eight feet tall, and about three and a half feet in width. Bony protrusions adorned its obscenely muscled body, legs, outer forearms and upper arms to create natural body armour, with short spikes sticking upwards near the elbow. Its jaw jutted out to the point that the array of sharp teeth covered its upper lip which, much like the rest of its skin, shared the translucency of its fallen brother. A similar bony protuberance adorned its forehead and nose, but it was far larger and more defined…and its eclipse black eyes stared at the rider with murderous, predatory hate.

Hiccup had the decidedly unwelcome idea that, upon swallowing a lump of fear in his throat, these creatures were not experiments of curiosity but intentionally created weapons.

"Note to self," he murmured, his ever present wittiness helping to take the edge off the deep danger, "don't do steroids."

With a roar of rage, it launched into a deceptively fast charge towards him, heavy thuds reverberating around the room with each slam of its huge feet against the ground. Hiccup gave himself to his flight instinct as he threw himself to the right and rolled out of harm's way in an elegant, detached from of ukemi, and quickly rose to one knee just as – unable to change direction in time – the creature bounced off the corner behind where Hiccup was stood three seconds prior, and impacted the opposite wall with a roar of pain and a resounding thump.

Seizing the moment, Hiccup levelled his P90 at the disoriented, hulking creature as it shook its head, and with a sharp, determined intake of breath that turned into a slow, relaxed exhalation he awaited the deafening roar as he squeezed the trigger.

The P90 thundered into life; white spots danced across Hiccup's vision with the muzzle flash of five rounds a second illuminating the main corridor in bright, split-second lights, the recoil forcing the stock of the weapon into his right shoulder as bullet after bullet flew in a deadly arc towards the creature.

Howling in pain, the hulking monstrosity threw its arms up to protect its face as the rounds impacted its body, some embedding themselves in the exposed flesh between the bony armour plating while others ricocheted harmlessly off it. Gritting his teeth with the soreness derived from dozens of thuds against his shoulder, Hiccup emptied the fifty-round magazine at the creature as it scrambled to its feet, mentally counting down the last two seconds before it ran dry.

A dull click from inside his weapon confirmed that every bullet had been fired – and as his left hand instinctively slid the empty clip from the top of the weapon, tossed it away and laced around a fresh clip in his utility vest, the creature seized its chance to scramble forward and charge at him once more. His eyes widening in surprise, Hiccup had barely pulled out the clip before he was forced to throw himself to the right, intent on  _not_  becoming a crimson paste under the monstrosity's feet.

The ammunition clip clattered a few feet away as he hit the ground, and Hiccup's chest tightened with fear as he felt the thuds of the creature approaching him from behind. Thinking quickly, he remembered the dilation of the fallen experiment's pupils due to their inherent preference for darkness, and as he rolled onto his back he thrust the P90's flashlight toward the titan's face.

In the middle of raising both of its arms to smash them down into his body, the creature howled sharply and staggered backwards as the comparatively intense light burned into its eyes, giving Hiccup the opportunity to roll over again, scramble to his feet and scurry over to the fresh magazine. Fluidly bending down to pick it up as he sprinted away, Hiccup felt his breath come in fits and starts as he darted around the corner of one of the branching tunnels, hoping to use the creature's temporary blindness and the hiding place to buy himself some time.

His pulse thundered in his ringing ears as, with his left hand trembling out of combined fear and excessive weapon vibration, he shoved the fresh clip into the top of the P90 and slammed down on the other end to click it into place, then yanked back on the bolt handle to chamber a new round. He pressed himself against the wall and took a few quick, deep inhalations and exhalations to hold his mind together, and with a burst of courage he rounded the corner with his weapon raised…

…to discover the bony colossus was less than two feet away.

"Shit!" he yelled in shock, and his right finger instinctively squeezed the trigger in response. The P90 sang its deafening song as fifteen bullets cascaded from the barrel straight into the creature's face, with most of them impacting harmlessly against the hardened bone. Three of the metal slugs did find a weak spot, however, as indicated by the monster's agonised shriek; one tore through the creature's right ear in a spray of crimson blood, the other sailed through its open mouth and punched through its right cheek, and the third embedded itself in the creature's right eye, turning the once white sphere into a mess of crimson, liquid goo. Had its skull not been hardened by the experiments, the bullet would likely have killed it rather than half-blinded it, but it was enough.

A ventilation pipe-sized arm swung blindly towards the Ghost, who sharply ducked having caught it in his peripheral vision just in time. Hiccup then dove between the creature's legs, rolled onto his back and fired another burst into its back which, as he found out to his dismay a split second after squeezing the trigger, was clad in bony segments of armour just like its chest. Still, two of the bullets did find a home in the exposed meat between the plates, the resultant pain forcing it to arch its back in agonised response. Hiccup rolled to the right to avoid a blindly aimed slam – the creature's right hand was too busy trying to gouge out the metal slug embedded in its eye socket – and he scrambled to his feet to empty the rest of his magazine into the side of its huge torso, the only part of its body left unprotected.

As it howled in anguish as metal slugs embedded themselves into its flesh, Hiccup briefly entertained the idea that he might actually win this battle despite overwhelming odds, with his superior agility, cunning and firepower causing more damage to  _it_  than it did to  _him._

But reality ensued as the flash of panic overcame him; most of his bullets were doing little to no damage and those that  _did_  were having little to no effect – evidently the creature's musculature was obscenely tough to prevent the metal slugs from penetrating into its organs. It was simply too strong and too tough.

It was a realisation that became acutely apparent as the impaired creature swung its left arm around in a wide arc – Hiccup reflexively leapt backwards just in time to turn the powerful swing into a glancing blow, but the white hot pain that instantly erupted from where the creature's forearm connected with the right of his ribcage told him in no uncertain terms that the advantage was lost.

Sent flying with a pained cry by the glancing blow, Hiccup landed several feet away into a graceless crumple while his P90 clattered to the ground well out of arms reach. Searing pain coursed through his chest, forcing wheezes and gulps as the wind had been completely punched out of him, and as he instinctively held his left arm over the point of impact, the stabbing sensation upon his fingers applying the slightest pressure told him what he least wanted to know – two of his ribs were fractured, to go with the ache in his neck from being violently snapped forward with the momentum.

Wholly dazed by the sudden reversal of fortune and sharp ache in his torso, Hiccup craned his grimacing face up, and gazed through black spots in his blurry double vision at what he  _thought_  was the colossal creature moving toward him. Injured, weak and trapped, he silently thought a final prayer and hoped his death would be quick, that the victorious humanoid weapon, cast in a faint blue hue, would be merciless in finishing him off.

And then, through the thick buzzing in his mind and the slowly sharpening eyesight…it hit him – the blue glow.

"Toothless…" he faintly whispered.

The creature's head jerked up just as a feral, enraged roar reverberated throughout the main hall, and was promptly tackled to the ground by a snarling blur of pitch black and shimmering blue, and the rider felt an explosion of gratitude and relief in his agonised chest that not only was his best friend alive and with him, but that his arrival was timely enough to save the young man's life.

Toothless pinned the creature's arms to the ground with his paws and opened his snarling mouth to let fly with a bolt of blue plasma, but the creature quickly curled its massive feet under his belly and kicked with all the force it could muster, sending the scaly beast into the air two dozen feet away. Toothless crumpled to the ground with a heavy thud and an infuriated howl, but rapidly recovered with all the resilience Hiccup had come to know of and rushed into the fray once more, putting himself directly between the injured rider and the violent experiment, spreading his black wings and issuing protective and challenging roars to the humanoid colossus – which answered with its own battle cry as it surged towards him.

Toothless countered the creature's momentum by leaping directly at its torso and slamming it to the ground, and then darted behind it to clamp his jaws over its left shoulder as it scrambled to its feet. Hiccup allowed himself a smirk while awkwardly rolling onto his side, as the resounding  _crack_ of bone under intense pressure echoed through the corridor, to go with a wounded cry from the creature.

A stab of pain from his ribs forced his eyes to screw themselves shut as he pushed up on his left arm, and once it dimmed enough for him to reopen them he was heartened to see the creature thrashing about in frustration while its hands tried in vain to gain purchase on the dragon's head, his teeth clenching ever harder on the bony plating while his claws dug into the soft, heavily bleeding flesh in the creature's sides in a violent form of piggyback. Further cracks joined the first, and as Hiccup rose to his knees he briefly thought that Toothless' superior speed, agility and combat experience would win him the day.

However, what Toothless had in speed and ferocity, the experiment had in strength and rage. Unable to gain a grip upon the beast that was securely attached with teeth and claws, it ran backwards with all the power it could muster and  _slammed_  Toothless against the concrete wall behind them – and it was a testament to the dragon's inherent toughness that bones were not broken with the force of the impact.

What did break however was the grip that Toothless' jaw had over its shoulder, as the dragon let out a pained roar upon impact. Hiccup watched in breathless horror as the experiment seized the chance borne from a few seconds of freedom by bending down to grasp the writhing black tail, and then used its raw strength to swing the beleaguered beast in a wide arc, and effortlessly catapulted him across the hall and into the opposite wall at the rider's right.

"Toothless!" Hiccup found the strength to rasp in terror as his friend impacted the concrete with a sickening thud, letting loose a howl of pained anger in the process. The rider awkwardly rose to his feet and scrambled several feet to his glowing friend, who toppled over as he slowly and lethargically tried to rise to his four paws.

"I'm here, buddy! You're gonna be okay!" he quickly soothed as he rested a hand upon the scaly beast's body. Toothless let out a low whimper in response as he attempted to shake the heavy daze from his mind.

Movement from the left caught Hiccup's eyes, which turned to spot the faintly illuminated creature advancing ominously but slowly upon them. The rider's gaze flicked between the oncoming threat and the still-incapacitated dragon, and felt a surge of panic at the knowledge that in his current state, it was a certainty that the experiment would kill his best friend.

He had no P90 – not that the bullets did much – two of his ribs were broken and he had the sneaking suspicion that his fists would be as useless as the metal slugs. He could not give up, though.

He  _would_  not give up.

As the creature was a few steps away from bringing its fists down upon them, an idea sparked in Hiccup's mind with the brightness of a thousand suns. An image danced in his mind's eye of Kozmotis stood on an asphalt road with a white flare in his hand, and with a surge of hope Hiccup realised – he had one too.

A rush of adrenaline cascaded through his body with every beat of his heart, sharpening his mind and dulling the pain in his chest. He reached his left hand into the bottom right pocket of his utility vest, drew out his white signal flare, pulled the plastic cap from one end and struck the newly exposed tip with it, making sure to look away before he did.

The uncovered end hissed sharply as it exploded into a dazzlingly bright light, and he heard a familiar pained howl echo through the main corridor. Holding the stick as far from him as possible, Hiccup smirked as he cast a sidelong gaze at the monstrous creature, its arms thrown over its eyes in blinding pain.

Ignoring the ache in his ribs, Hiccup rose to his feet and launched into a sprint at the cowering creature, who hunched itself over as it wildly swung its huge hands in a pitiful attempt to knock the light away. Hiccup ducked another swing as he darted behind the creature and used the bony plating for purchase to climb onto its back, and as he reached the heavily bleeding shoulder he held the burning end of the flare against the exposed flesh.

The creature let loose an agonised roar at the searing heat and involuntarily arched its back to get away from the invader…which was exactly what the rider wanted. Hiccup quickly wrapped his entire right arm around the experiment's beefy neck to pull himself further up its back, and as it let out another enraged howl…

…he shoved the flare into its mouth.

What followed was an unearthly screech of sheer agony that reverberated around the vast main corridor, a screech that came with an edge of gurgling as the searing heat charred and melted its soft, fleshy throat. Hiccup quickly pulled his hand away, slipped out of reach and held on for dear life as it thrashed and writhed, its hands unable to decide between expelling the rider from his back, and reaching into its mouth to retrieve the thick stick that was trying to burn its oesophagus.

"Toothless!" he brokenly yelled, hoping against hope that his friend had sufficiently recovered, "Toothless! Shoot him!"

A  _yowl_  of assent echoed from the other side of the creature, a vocal signal that preceded the inimitable shriek associated only with one thing – and as the rider threw himself to the right and crumpled against the floor, he looked up just the creature's entire upper body  _exploded_  in a ball of blood, organs, bone and blue fire that sprayed the floor, walls, and  _him_  in sickeningly warm liquid. Hiccup closed his eyes and thanked the stars for his mask as some of the crimson mess spurted over him, and fought hard to  _not_  throw up when what he thought to be one of its internal organs bounced off his left leg.

"Ugh…" he groaned as he gingerly touched his sodden utility vest, and then closed his eyes in exhaustion as he flopped back onto the ground "that's gonna be worse than dragon drool to wash out…"

He felt a worried nudging of his right arm, and didn't need to open his eyes to see who came to check if he was alright – but he did anyway. He wanted to rest his gaze upon his best friend, who came to save him in his hour of need.

"Hey there, buddy. I can't see you, how're you – ow – doing?" he murmured weakly, feeling the pain in his ribs spike as the adrenaline began to ebb away. Toothless emitted a low set of  _yowls_  as he turned to breathe a gentle flame a few feet away from Hiccup's right leg, and promptly returned his cat-like green eyes towards his master, pupils dilated with the darkness and with worry.

"I'm okay," Hiccup lamely said, grunting as a pain shot through his torso, a complaint that he would dare to affectionately stroke his friend's snout, "I'm just a little bruised and beaten. How about you, are you okay?"

Illuminated by the faint glow of the dying flames, Toothless nodded as he gently nuzzled against Hiccup's head, a soft urging behind his caring motion. Sensing the meaning, Hiccup groaned as he summoned the energy to roll his exhausted body to the left, pushed himself up onto his knees, and gratefully accepted the dragon's offer of his wide head to help him rise to his feet. Once he was safely upright and the four-legged creature was certain that he would not topple over, Toothless trotted off and retrieved the rider's discarded P90.

"Yeah I know…we need to – ow, that smarts – find Koz." Hiccup muttered, wincing as he accepted the weapon with his right hand, his other one relegated to protectively covering the undoubtedly blossoming bruise under his utility vest and black t-shirt.

"Come on," he said in a laboured tone as he nodded towards the tunnel that his ally was dragged through, wearing a smile of weariness, "let's go save him or avenge him. Hopefully the former. Oh, and can you do something for me?"

Toothless' brow dipped slightly as they walked, and he gently nodded his assent.

"Remind me to visit Ariel in the infirmary. I think I'm gonna be out of action for a while."

He wasn't wrong. Every breath was laboured and forced, and a stabbing pain cascaded through his chest if he breathed too deeply, so he had to mentally control his lungs into only inflating a minimal amount. Fractured ribs were one of those things where there wasn't a lot to be done other than take painkillers and wait, and Hiccup counted himself extremely lucky that it could have been a lot, lot worse; his reflexive reaction to avoid the wild swing could have come too late, and rather than two fractured ribs that would knit themselves back together over time, his internal organs could have been pulverised by the force of the monster's swing, or punctured by the vicious barbs of a smashed ribcage.

Then again, the only reasons that he, the Ghosts and his gifted kind lived for so long was down to skill, cunning and a healthy helping of luck – and every night he went to sleep uttering a silent prayer that it would be a long time before their good fortune ran dry.

"Thank you." he muttered abruptly, the out-of-the-blue nature of his gratitude causing Toothless to glance at him and cock his head in puzzlement.

"I know why you stayed outside, why you were scared to go through the door. I know what they did to you."

A low, almost inaudible growl emanated from the dragon's throat, a wordless, formless utterance of  _"don't remind me"._

"But you still went through the door anyway, into the place that brings back bad memories for you. Even though this place is a freaking maze, and the echoes would have screwed with your hearing, you still came through to save me. So…thank you. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you." finished Hiccup, the crinkling of his eyes the only indication of a grateful smile behind his mask.

Toothless' mouth broke into a proud, smug smile as he gently nudged Hiccup's right arm with his head, accidentally pressing it against the wounded area on his ribs. The rider let loose a loud  _"aargh"_  followed by a sharp intake of breath, and Toothless simply rolled his eyes as though to say  _"oh, dragon up, human!"_

They were a few slow steps away from the tunnel that Kozmotis disappeared through when Hiccup heard a low, aggressive growl escape from Toothless' mouth, his left lips drawn back into a menacing, teeth-baring snarl as he froze and defensively tensed his body the way cats do when threatened. Hiccup frowned deeply and was about to worriedly question the abrupt change in behaviour when he heard the sound he least wanted to hear behind him.

Slow, light footsteps.

Rider and dragon whirled around on the spot as Hiccup thrust his P90-wielding arm up to aim his flashlight at the source of the sound, and was barely conscious of the jab of pain in his chest as his breath hitched to go with a vague memory of seeing it in his peripheral vision during his sprint to the containment door.

Twenty feet away, with the disgusting crimson mess of The Incredible Harvester between them like a barrier of liquid flesh, was the third experiment. Unlike the two that came before, the creature that slowly and waveringly walked towards them was unequivocally female; her sodden, murky blonde hair was obscenely long and cascaded from her head, down her body and trailed several feet behind her, her skin was as translucent as the ones that came before, and her naked, figure was that of someone who was starting to feel the effects of starvation. What surprised Hiccup was that unlike the previous two, there were no jagged teeth that adorned her mouth and her finger and toe nails were only lengthened by the onset of time and lack of hygiene, not by scientific design. Some of them had even broken off to leave behind jagged edges, evidently as a result of her escape. For a second, Hiccup wondered if given sufficient care, food and warmth, the experiment that slowly shuffled towards them could be healed.

But then her face contorted into fury as her jaw dropped practically to her chest, and she drew her arms up in preparation to let fly with a piercing, ear shattering shriek.

Hiccup's face screwed up in agony as he dropped the P90 to throw his hands over his ears, collapsing weakly to his knees with ferocity of the sonic assault barraging his sense of hearing, the sharp ache that surged from his chest fighting to be acknowledged over the sensation of his eardrums being attacked by the very thing they were designed to register and the instantly blossoming migraine within his skull.

Illuminated by the fallen flashlight, he cast an involuntary glance at his friend who cowered in pain to the ground, his paws desperately attempting to cover his ears while his wings thrust themselves over the both of them, hoping that they would dissipate at least  _some_  of the piercing scream that rendered both of them functionally useless – and if it were to carry on any longer, permanently deaf.

But then the shrieking abruptly ceased, and in the brief moments of confusion that followed, Hiccup was unsure of what to make of it.

Was he now completely deaf? He wasn't sure. It was possible, and if it was the case then it would make them practically immune to the woman's ability and give them the opportunity to shoot her in the head. Of course, the deafness could be a precursor to the deadlier effect of rupturing blood vessels with high-frequency sound. Whichever it was, he knew he had the chance to end the attack by putting a bullet in the experiment before it was too late.

His right hand shot away from his ear and laced itself around the handgrip of his P90, and as though sensing his master's intent Toothless drew his wings back while Hiccup quickly aimed the weapon towards where he remembered the woman last stood – and let loose a sharp exhalation of alternating relief and surprise.

The reason that the infernal shrieking ceased was that the offending experiment was dangling a foot off the ground, her face contorted in fear while her hands struggled to gain purchase against an inch-thick tendril of black sand coiled around her neck, squeezing it so tightly that her face began to take on a shade of blue. Hiccup's flashlight followed her as she was gracefully pulled to the right, her legs and arms scrambling to use something –  _anything_  – to help her break free from the constricting embrace, and stopped just in front of a battered and bruised Kozmotis Pitchiner, his face adorned with several new cuts and scratches that seeped blood down his grey cheeks.

The tall, victorious Ghost drew the female experiment close enough to look into her solar eclipse-like eyes, and the rider couldn't work out whether he was studying her worth or simply trying to read her. Then again, it was Kozmotis' schtick to look into his enemy's eyes and watch the light fade from their orbs as they died – and fall she did.

" _Inside voice, darling. Shouting is rude."_ Kozmotis spoke through the radio connection, in a voice that Hiccup noticed was a  _lot_  quieter than before. Blades of pure shadow-sand a foot-and-a-half long manifested themselves over his clenched fists, and without further hesitation he thrust them upwards and plunged them into the experiment's abdomen, up inside her ribcage and towards her heart. Her face went slack with fear and overwhelming agony as blood dripped from her open mouth and where the blades entered her body, and as Kozmotis jabbed them further inside, Hiccup could practically  _see_  the tips pierce through her back.

Her body shuddered and jerked in the throes of death overcame her, movements that gradually ceased as her body went limp. His eyes and forehead etched with contempt, Kozmotis dissipated the black sand from his fists and disdainfully tossed the corpse aside, turning his head towards the beam of the fallen G36's flashlight as she crumpled like a ragdoll into the exploded remains of her kin.

"Where the hell were you?" Hiccup snapped as he inelegantly rose to his feet, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears as the taller Ghost sauntered over to the fallen weapon.

"Fighting my bony, cheap knock-off. Don't worry, he's dead too. I would imagine it's hard to breathe – or think – when one of your own claws has been shoved through your skull." Kozmotis answered nonchalantly as he bent down to retrieve his rifle.

"I like how you said that so casually." Hiccup grunted, rolling his eyes.

Kozmotis shrugged and chuckled tiredly. "It's them or us. Anyway, I see that you had some fun of your own." he said, resting his flashlight upon the crimson splatter that spread over the floor and walls nearby.

"What was that?" Hiccup called.

"I said: looks like you two had some fun of your own!" Kozmotis loudly repeated.

"Oh, yeah. Getting tossed around by The Incredible Harvester was  _so_  entertaining," Hiccup drawled sarcastically, "I'm just thankful Toothless arrived when he did."

"Well done." Kozmotis said in a strangely bright tone as he rested the beam upon Toothless' lower jaw, and Hiccup suppressed a snicker when he saw the dragon narrow its eyes in suspicion as to whether the compliment was genuine or not.

"So what do we do now?" Hiccup asked – or at least, thought he asked.

"We go topside." Kozmotis answered quietly.

"Sorry, what?"

"We go topside!" the taller man yelled.

"Jeez, no need to shout. Anyway, there's a teensy tiny problem with that." Hiccup said loudly, and jerked his left thumb behind him. Kozmotis' flashlight shot from Toothless' mouth towards where the rider lazily gestured.

"The containment door. Shit. Right. Okay," Kozmotis sighed, "maybe if we repair the power cable that the acid ate through, we might be able to-"

"Actually, I have a better idea." Hiccup interrupted him as he turned toward his best friend, and inclined his aching head towards the inextricably closed containment door. Completely on his wavelength, Toothless turned on a dime and pointed himself at the darkened doorway, and with a shriek that was decidedly quieter for one reason or another, let fly another bolt of blue. It exploded against the heavy door with a blinding flash and a reverberating bang that even Hiccup could hear, and after a few second the smoke dissipated to reveal a newly created hole, wide enough for a dragon and a human to walk through side by side.

Snickering something about how the direct approach was always best, Kozmotis slung the strap of his G36 over his shoulder and walked off towards the ruptured door, with Hiccup and Toothless slowly following.

It then occurred to him, as the final streams of adrenaline ebbed away to leave a vacuum in its place how obscenely exhausted he was. Without the fight-or-flight hormone to quicken his pulse, sharpen his mind, hone his reflexes and tunnel his vision, he became acutely aware of how nearly every single muscle in his body cried out with fatigue, how even his bones felt weary and clunky. Each step was a momentous effort, each breath a labour and each stabbing pain in his chest a reminder that he was very much worse for wear. In that moment, all he wanted to do was find a nice soft bed, floor, or even a patch of grass to lay his weary head.

Toothless seemed to sense his master's exhaustion. He stopped and regarded him with a pointed gaze, and when Hiccup opened his mouth but found no energy to ask what was up, the dragon simply inclined his head towards the saddle on his back. Hiccup felt a surge of gratitude and warmth for his winged friend; the science experiment that resulted from the splicing of genes, DNA combination and the question of  _"could we?"_ unfettered by the more important, moral question of  _"should we?"_

The dragon that, though terrified and extremely wary of humans when the then fifteen-year-old Hiccup first found him; that snapped, growled and bit at the outstretched hand of peace and kindness. The dragon that, with time, goodwill and friendship became a staunch ally and a fiercely loyal buddy to the young man, who accompanied him when they fled from Unity, and happened upon a white-haired man that  _flew_  through the sky just like they did.

"Thanks, buddy." Hiccup muttered quietly, or at least thought he did as he awkwardly placed his left foot on a small metal rod in the saddle's side, and clambered onto the brown leather saddle. Needless to say, the searing pain in his ribs shot through his body and hitched his breath with every single movement, but the rider was far too tired to even register it. So exhausted that, as soon as he was comfortable, he let his upper body lean down onto the dragon's back and rested his head, letting the gentle motions of Toothless' forelegs rock him to sleep.

He was out within seconds.

* * *

  _Time: 01:15_

It wasn't the urging voice that stirred him, nor was it the crisp, cold and gloriously fresh air caressing his skin that woke Hiccup from his well-deserved slumber. It was the repetitive, sharp poking in his arm and occasional flicking of his head that forced him to open his eyes, though even  _that_  was a herculean effort itself.

As he clumsily rose upright and mumbled something that was probably far too unintelligible for even Toothless to understand, he blinked a few times as the outside world sharpened into focus – and then felt a blossom of joy in his heart when he realised – he slept through the journey to the circular freight elevator, the ascent to the semi-circular vehicle tunnel and the long walk to the outside air, and never before did his soul sing so sweetly of freedom and openness when he gazed up at the star filled sky, like beautiful diamonds in a veil of black. He closed his eyes and smiled with exhausted relief, letting the cold night air and outdoor silence wash over him like a cleansing tide.

"Haddock," Kozmotis called, tapping his arm with renewed urgency, "how are you feeling?"

"Right now, even with fractured ribs, weird hearing and a totally wiped body…pretty good, actually." Hiccup chose to murmur, hoping that the words he spoke were the ones he intended.

"Well, I saw something that might make you feel even better. Look, in the sky to your right."

Hiccup sighed and slowly moved his head in the direction of Kozmotis' rather clear suggestion, but once he opened his green eyes he did not regret it one bit.

" _Aurora Borealis"_  he murmured in deep reverence.

The shimmering green ribbons of the Northern Lights danced through the sky like a beautiful arrangement of visual music, an iridescent symphony that only added to the splendour of the night sky, unbroken by double decker cities or hovering drop-ships. Translucent and silent, the streams of emerald curved this way and that through the glittering stars, and Hiccup took it as a sign from whichever gods still existed that despite the injuries, the exhaustion and the four bodies in the Science District, that the abnormals had found their home. He wasn't the only one.

"My mother once told me," Kozmotis spoke loudly, his voice barely audible over the radio, "that Aurora Borealis was not just a result of cosmic rays or some such interacting with the upper atmosphere, but that it was a signal to us all that help would always come when it was needed most."

"Did you believe her?" Hiccup asked, entranced by the display of beauty.

"No," Kozmotis answered as he shook his head, "but I can see why she would think that. Anyway, I must contact the  _Star_ and inform them of what we have found."

Hiccup nodded slowly as he carefully dismounted his friend, taking care to keep his eyes fixed upon the shimmering ribbons above him. He didn't want to miss a second of it in the fear that if he looked away for merely a moment, they would leave and never return – and even Toothless decided to flop back onto his hindquarters and let the lights cleanse away his woes.

It was as the rider lowered himself down onto the asphalt road and gently laid his back upon it in order to lose his vision in the wondrous sky that his mind began to assess everything that happened, from the moment they entered the facility to the moment he fell asleep upon his best friend's back – every single emotion, revelation, image of battles against creatures of translucent skin and exposed bone. The fear, the anger, the relief, his mind worked through all of it over the next few minutes until it reached a question, a thought-provoking notion based on a memory that he so far largely ignored.

He remembered how he had to ask Kozmotis to repeat himself twice, and how he had to strain his ears to pick up the voices spoken at a normal volume. How his own words were muffled as though spoken behind a thick sheet of glass, and that sometimes he wasn't sure what he was speaking was what his mind wanted him to say. It was a notion that only strengthened when he noticed that, though the earpiece in his right ear was just about registering the conversation going on between Kozmotis, Kristoff, Neve and Anna, his left ear couldn't make anything out.

It was in that moment that he realised exactly how much damage the experiment's attack had done – he was partially deaf in both ears.

Strangely, it didn't matter to him. He didn't know why that was, whether it was down to his sheer fatigue or the unwillingness to let anything dampen his feeling of freedom and safety. Maybe, he thought, it wouldn't hit him until much later on, and despite the dragon's heightened ears, Toothless seemed to have recovered quickly and was suffering no ill effects.

He did have an idea, however. A small inkling as to why he didn't feel too bothered by the fact that his hearing was now partially impaired.

His father Stoick Haddock taught him many things through the rider's adolescence, things that Hiccup lived by. One was  _"Fight for what is right, defend what is just, and above all…never, ever give up"_.

The other was simple yet profound:  _"Adapt and overcome"_.

Maybe, that was why he was shrugging off the implications of his newfound partial deafness, because he knew he could adapt. A visit to Ariel in the infirmary to ascertain exactly how much damage had been done, and then a visit to his workshop to fashion something together so he could once again hear as clearly as he used to, and everything would be back to normal.

Because that was what Hiccup did; he harnessed his intrinsic gift to understand and create complex fears of engineering, provided he had the materials to adapt and overcome anything that stood in his, or his kind's way.

He did count his blessings that he could still hear voices spoken in a high volume, or in Kozmotis' case – words yelled in shock and surprise, and wondered if it was something he should dare involve himself in.

"Frost did WHAT?!"

* * *

  _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS): **02:16:19:50:03**_

* * *

 

 


	16. Truth Will Out

_Location: Astrid Hofferson's apartment, Upper Level  
Date: September 5_ _th_ _, 2073_  
_Time: 06:00_

 

No matter what he did, or when he fell asleep, Jack always woke at six o'clock sharp. It didn't matter if the day before was exhausting to the point that he was dead on his feet, or however late it was that he closed his eyes, his internal clock would wake him at that precise time every morning. It was a side-effect of the Ghost training he underwent many years ago, and for the most part it was a handy thing to have.

But after merely ninety minutes of slumber, having fallen asleep out of sexual exhaustion at half past four in the morning, an indomitable and unchangeable internal clock was a pain in the ass to the twenty-four year old.

The warm, healthy, amber glow that caressed the nude and spent bodies of the two as they dozed off with deep satisfaction was the same glow that greeted him as he slowly and reluctantly opened his puffy and dry eyes. He blinked a few times as the world slowly came back to him, chasing away the fluffy lethargy that gripped his limbs and dulled his senses only a few seconds ago.

It was then, as his body slowly acclimatised to the waking world, that he became aware amid a sensation of thick grogginess that sometime between half past four and six o'clock that he had moved himself from under Astrid's warm, sweating body as she draped herself over him to the hard, plastic laminate floor. That was nothing new; he always preferred to sleep on a hard surface as opposed to a rich, soft and comfortable mattress as a result of many nights spent (sometimes literally) in the field – attempting to slumber in a bed always made him feel like he was lying on a marshmallow, that he was going to sink through and suffocate in its indulgent cotton surface.

Whether that was down to the disquieting sensation or that he was actually terrified of being underwater and drowning – ironic, given that his home was a  _boat –_ he didn't know and likely never would.

As he slowly became more and more aware of his surroundings, he was also struck with the pleasurable yet painful sensations derived from a night of pure sexual stress-release and animalistic hunger. His muscles felt achingly sore and overworked – particularly his arms and thighs. A quick assessment of his wrists revealed light bruising to go with the ones on his neck and pelvis. His joints were stiff and clunky, and his crotch felt that if he were to have another erection…it would be too soon and  _way_  too painful. Not to mention the throbbing ache in his head.

Suffice to say: Jack felt like he had seen better days.

He rolled over and pushed himself into a seated position, letting loose quiet grunts with the exertion and the desperate effort to wake up, and as he wiped the palms of his hands over his eyes to try and clear away the bleary sleep-gunk from his ducts – even though he had less than two hours of slumber, he still slept heavily as he always did – memories of the night before swam through his mind, starting backwards from the moment he fell asleep. Screams and growls of names to the walls, countless orgasms and gripped pillows, and judging by the holo-photograph frame on the floor, sometimes the fucking wasn't even on the bed. Then came images of dancing and alcohol, and through the bleary haze of waking up, dwindling inebriation and sexual release, he remembered the moment that three words changed the night from something enjoyable to something  _else._

His eyes snapped open under his hands, and as he cast a quick sidelong glance to the naked woman sleeping peacefully on her bed, he remembered he had a job to do beyond satisfying his ego with the knowledge that he, Jack "Frost" Overland the Ghost second-in-command, seduced and slept with a Valkyrie.

No, his plan for the next half hour was to gather information and then leave.

Quietly and with no short amount of wincing, shoulder rolling and more than a few stretches every so often, he awkwardly rose to his feet and made his way from her messy bedroom towards the apartment door where he  _thought_  his clothes were, and for the most part he was correct. His tank top had been tossed indifferently over the black, uncomfortably blocky sofa, and his pants and boxers remained in front of the door where they had been yanked down without ceremony.

He remarked to himself, as he slid into his pants and traipsed over to retrieve his tank top, that if Astrid were to ever find a meaningful relationship with someone…heaven help them in the bedroom.

Fully dressed, he scanned over the apartment's living room with a vigilant eye. Astrid lived in a state of controlled chaos, different to the usual tidiness and cleanliness one would associate with anyone that lived in the Upper Level as they went about their day-to-day lives in the street. The open plan kitchen situated to the left of the front door and separated from the living room by a faux-granite breakfast bar was decorated by several empty rectangular glasses and more than a few bowls and plates that had not been put away…and he had a vague memory of being pulled into the kitchen for a drink, only to continue the shenanigans. The living room was fairly tidy save for the articles of clothing removed last night – he still wondered how her bra contained not just her boobs but an I.D. card, her apartment key card and a credit chip, but put it down to the engineering wonders of ladies lingerie – and her mandatory Upper Level outer garments draped haphazardly over the back of the sofa. Holo-picture frames adorned the walls and the black plastic coffee table in front of the sofa; those that were not magnetically attached to the wall were planted at skewed angles.

All in all, Astrid's apartment gave off a homely, settled aura that did not speak of slovenly behaviour, rather a strong dislike for conformity and an even stronger contempt for having to submit to it. If a mildly untidy home was her way of rebellion, Jack was all for it. Hell, her disdain for Unity's discouragement of recreational sex was indication enough.

He shook that thought from his mind – she was the enemy, and he was supposed to be gathering information, and as his eyes fell upon the Uni-Com's obsidian frame, he knew where to start.

As he pressed a faintly glowing button at the front of the screen, the Uni-Com flickered to life with the words " _Please enter passcode"_ in elegant yet thin blue letters hovering in the middle of the screen, and a shimmering translucent key pad – if the device was not activated by its owner's voice, then a passcode was required to prevent unauthorised access…which was definitely his intent. However, there were ways and means around this, and if you spend enough time around Hiro Hamada, you tend to learn a few things.

He turned away from the Uni-Com's patiently hovering request and made his way to the bedroom where Astrid slept still, and as he stealthily stepped over to her right arm that dangled off the edge of the bed, he nearly stumbled over as he felt something hard under his foot – the holo-frame that had been carelessly knocked face down to the floor when their antics migrated from the bed to the dressing table. Frowning, he knelt down and retrieved the photograph, turning it over as he rose to his feet.

Stood in front of what he assumed to be a high school graduation ball was a slightly thinner and less toned Astrid, wearing an elegant but striking shoulder-less teal gown. Stood behind and to either side of her were a man and a woman, both with the same colour blonde hair adorning their heads. The woman's eyes were the same sky-blue, but the man's orbs were a dull hazel. Their hands rested upon her shoulders, and all three wore tight lipped smiles that came off as incredibly forced. Jack astutely assumed them to be her parents, and as he briefly dwelt upon the plastic smiles and complete lack of brightness in all three pairs of eyes, he felt a twinge in his heart when he came to the sad conclusion that Astrid was born into a loveless family, a product of Unity's state-approved marriage laws. Sometimes you were lucky and were able to marry someone you fell in love with, like Anna's parents did. Most of the time, the government selected and betrothed you to someone else upon reaching twenty-five, and placed upon you the maximum limit of two children.

It was a meddlesome form of population control…which explained Astrid's blasé attitude to relationships, and favouring of recreational as opposed to meaningful sex. What was the point of getting attached to someone, to risk of falling in love and having your heart broken when you reached twenty five years old and were ordered to marry someone you didn't feel for?

He sighed under his breath as he gave the moving photograph a final look, carefully replaced it upon the dresser, and walked over to Astrid's sleeping body. Gently, he took her inert arm with one hand and slowly slid her silver wrist communicator from it with the other – and froze as he felt his heart shoot into his mouth when she twitched her arm, frowned and murmured  _"stormfly…"_  in her sleep just as the metal band left her wrist, and uttered a deep exhalation of relief when her expression returned to its peaceful and relaxed state.

Communicator successfully appropriated, he silently left the room, paused near the sofa so he was out of range of the Uni-Com's voice recognition range and well out of earshot of any sleeping Valkyries, and set to work.

Wrist communicators were simple little devices that did exactly what it says on the metaphorical tin – they facilitated the communication between two peoples in various forms like two-way or one-way, they could be set up to record conversations, and if someone was asleep or busy, then the device would treat any would-be callers to a polite message, in the owner's voice, that the person was unavailable and they should attempt to call later.

Kozmotis once called it a glorified answerphone message, whatever that was.

With one hand he held the device in his fingers before him, and with the other he pressed a tiny button on the side of the band, prompting the small black circle in the middle of the silver bracelet to glow with a pale blue, and project a similarly coloured menu into the air above it. The word  _MENU_  sat at the top, and hovering under it were four square icons each with a word underneath –  _RECORDING, PROJECTION, UNI-COM SYNC_ and the one he was looking for… _INACTIVITY GREETING._

Tapping it – or at least, the empty space in which it hovered – it brought up a new menu which contained  _RECORD NEW GREETING, REVERT TO DEFAULT SETTINGS,_ and  _PLAY CURRENT GREETING._ Selecting the third choice, the shimmering projection changed again to a single line under which the icons for rewind, play, pause, and fast forward hung, and with a slightly smug smirk he selected the "play" icon and watched as the line began to pulse with each word spoken.

" _This is Astrid Hofferson. I guess I'm probably asleep or doing something important now, so if you want to leave a message, go for it. If not, well…then don't. Whatever. Bye!"_

Satisfied, he moved over to the Uni-Com where the keypad still hovered in the air, held the communicator in front of him, tapped the play icon once more, and quickly jabbed "pause" as soon as her name was uttered.

" _Good morning, Miss Hofferson."_

The keypad dematerialised into shimmering lights within the screen, and joined with legions of others to form the Uni-Com's main menu: a vertically scrolling news bulletin occupying the entirety of the right quarter, an intimidatingly good-looking woman wearing a razor sharp brunette bob-cut in the centre half, whose lips silently reported the news over the past few days – Jack knew this to be the A.I. news anchor Cynthia – and a list of options including  _Contact List, Messages,_   _Media Playlist_  and the heading that most interested him.

Uni-Coms were generally designed for whoever used them – the general population would have your standard news, entertainment and communications platform…but if you were higher up in the pecking order like a government official, economist or, say, the daughter of the weapons and armour designing Hofferson family and a Valkyrie, then small customisations were made for you so you could receive special updates separate to your standard message service.

So it was little wonder that, upon activating the holographic interface by thumbing a tiny blue button in front of the screen to avoid using the voice recognition software and thus scuppering his information gathering mission before it even began, he fingered the fourth heading entitled  _Important Stuff_ that hovered patiently in the air in front of him.

However, a sense of impatience grew in the form of a mildly tightening chest as his eyes hurriedly scanned the newly appeared messages. While there weren't  _that_  many things to read through, he knew that the longer he stayed, the more likely it was that Astrid would awaken from her slumber and catch him in the act – he had no doubt that trying to explain away the fact that he got past the password protection and that he was accessing important information would be hilarious, and more than likely end in bloodshed.

His or hers…it didn't matter. First rule of being a Ghost: if you can avoid a fight, do so.

Therefore, as he turned his scrutinising gaze to a concealed compartment to the right of the Uni-Com screen, a hidden vessel for empty data cylinders usually used for downloading Unity media sitcoms, entertainment holo-shows and the like, he decided it would be prudent to take the information 'to go'…after returning the communicator to Astrid's wrist, of course.

Besides – he really,  _really_ needed a shower, some breakfast and a nap, in that order.

* * *

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Ugh…my head…" the fiery Valkyrie groaned as she stumbled out of her bedroom towards the loudly beeping Uni-Com, a pained frown dancing upon her strikingly pretty features as she massaged her temples with one hand, clad only in a  _Unitas_  t-shirt.

There were no two ways about it; Astrid woke from her slumber at roughly eleven o'clock feeling  _good_. Well, mostly.

Though her muscles ached with serious use and her head swam with the fuzz of post-night out inebriation, in addition to the thumping headache that sat happily in the front of her skull – not to mention the parts of her that were most definitely sore – she revelled in the satisfaction of a  _very_  good night, the chance to properly let her hair down and indulge herself in the release of three years of pent-up sexual frustration. Simply put – she got laid.

Chris was good, she would give him that. Of course, there was no romance, affection nor tenderness in the way they enjoyed each other's bodies that night, but she wasn't looking for anything beyond a one night stand and the chance to satisfy her own carnal urges, so the passion between them was only derived from hunger and the need to dominate. Sure, she  _briefly_  toyed with the idea of getting his Uni-Com contact details and potentially continuing their dalliances in the future when he disappeared into the men's bathroom, much like Rapunzel was intent on doing so – and probably did – for the one named Zach, but she couldn't see her and Chris together at any point.

They shared too many similarities, particularly the stubbornness and desire to one-up each other – therefore any relationship between them would probably have burned brightly for the first few weeks and fizzled out not long after that. Sure, the sex would have been satisfying, amazing and destructive, but the arguments and irritation would have overwhelmed them before long. She didn't really know what she was looking for in a significant other if she was even _looking_ , but it certainly wouldn't be found in the brunette, blue-eyed Chris.

If relationships were based on differences as well as similarities, she had no doubt that anything meaningful between them wouldn't have lasted long enough to find out how they differed.

Needless to say, she was relieved to note his absence when she woke up, and that she would not have to kick him out of her apartment…yet was disappointed that she wouldn't have the opportunity.  _That_ would have been fun.

"Uni-Com…acti…" she began as she pulled her arms either side to indulge in a glorious stretch, but was interrupted by one hell of a yawn that tore across her face, "…activate…"

" _Good morning once again, Miss Hofferson."_  was the sound line's customarily neutral greeting, and though the notion of it being somehow different danced upon her thoughts, they were swiftly barged aside by a resurgent throbbing in her head.

"Argh…not so loud…" she hissed, clasping a hand to her forehead.

" _Apologies. Reducing volume."_

"Thanks," she said in a croaky voice, and was struck with the overwhelming desire for a drink of cold water, "anyway, what's so important that you needed to wake me up?"

" _You have a call waiting."_

"Who is it?" she asked, wondering if it was Merida or Rapunzel and why the hell they were interrupting her hangover recovery sleep. Verbally, blood would surely be spilled…

" _Miss Snowfield."_

…or not.

Astrid's eyes widened a little in surprise, and she involuntarily and hastily ran her hands over her head to smooth down any flyaway hairs that had been dislodged during the night's shenanigans, whilst feeling deep puzzlement as to why Elsa of all people would be contacting her. They weren't exactly on great terms, and that was mostly because the young Hofferson – for reasons known only to her and her battle-sisters – didn't trust the platinum blonde as far as she could throw her, so the idea that Elsa "Snow Queen" Snowfield was actually  _initiating contact_  was something deeply incongruous to her low perceptions of her superior officer.

"Main screen." she ordered.

Astrid watched as, almost instantly, the sound line that flickered whenever the Uni-Com 'spoke' shrank and hid in the corner while Elsa's shoulders and face replaced it, her features heavily hued with blue as per the norm when it came to calls between Uni-Coms. Her hair still in its usual tight, military approved bun, Elsa regarded her with a cocked eyebrow and a quirked smile of veiled amusement, though her eyes remained as studious as ever.

"Morning, Elsa." the second-in-command greeted her with as much politeness as she could muster in her state of semi-wakefulness.

" _Good morning, Astrid. I was going to ask how you were, but I can see you had a very good night indeed."_ Elsa replied, a little too pointedly for Astrid's liking.

"Yeah, actually, I did. Lots of drinks and the chance to blow off some steam."

" _I can tell,"_  the platinum blonde chuckled quietly, and Astrid felt a subtle rush of unwelcome self-consciousness,  _"was he up to the task?"_

"Was who up to the task?"

" _Whoever it is you took home with you."_

"Is this conversation going somewhere other than what feels like a game of  _Let's Poke Astrid?_  'Cause I have a few things I'd rather be doing…like sleeping." Astrid snapped, quickly tiring of her superior's line of questioning – innocuous as it was. Hot tempered Valkyrie plus hangover, plus strained relationship with superior officer does not a good conversationalist make. Elsa blinked in surprise at her tone.

" _I apologise, Astrid. I mean no offense. The reason I am calling is…I was wondering if you would like to join me for a coffee in the Entertainment District? I have no other plans for today so I am free at any time, and I'm hoping that Merida and Rapunzel will join us too?"_

Astrid blinked. This was too good to be true.

"Wait, what? You're asking if I want to join you on a girly coffee thing?" she gaped incredulously.

" _Well…yes, I suppose. It's alright if you have other plans, or don't want to."_ Elsa amended hesitantly, looking mildly puzzled at the second-in-command's disbelief.

"No, no, that's…sure, yeah we can meet you. Sounds like a cool morning…look, not that I'm suspicious or anything, but what brought this on? I never pegged you for the 'girly coffee' type." Astrid asked, her eyes narrowing a tiny bit.

" _Yes, I suppose that…"_ Elsa began, but seemed to find herself at a loss for what to say as her mouth opened and closed for a few seconds,  _"after we talked yesterday, it kind of reminded me how I have isolated myself, that I haven't really left my house except for necessary things since my leave began. You were only trying to involve me in your social life, and it made me think of how I've been since we first met; cold, arrogant and taciturn. I haven't exactly been the most likeable of leaders…"_

"No, you haven't." Astrid agreed bluntly.

" _Yes, well…I was hoping to rectify that mistake, and would like us to at least be friends."_

Astrid paused for a moment. The Elsa speaking of friendship and regret seemed a world away from the single-minded, irritable Snow Queen that she and her battle-sisters knew and grew to dislike. There she was, offering a metaphorical olive branch of sorts.

"Yeah well…I'm not gonna deny that I've wanted to punch you in the face a few times…but I can get behind the idea of being friends. Look, give me an hour or two to call Merida and Rapunzel, then have a shower and eat some breakfast, and we'll meet you at the coffee place near the holo-movie theatre. One o'clock sound good?" Astrid offered, attempting to hide her confusion behind a veil of nonchalance. Elsa, however, broke into a genuine and pleased smile.

" _Sounds great. One o'clock it is. See you there, Astrid."_

"Yeah, see you," Astrid nodded as she rose a hand to wipe away the call, then paused as a thought crossed her mind, "hey, Elsa?"

" _Yes?"_

"He was pretty good, the guy I took home last night. I think you'd like him. More than I do, at least."

" _Maybe I'll meet him someday."_ Elsa coyly chuckled, and promptly ended the call.

Astrid stared at the thin, unmoving sound line that reasserted its place in the centre of the Uni-Com, trying to make sense of what happened. Not only did her blinkered, arrogant superior officer initiate contact, but also invited her to a social gathering. It was a far cry from the tight-lipped, terse woman that ordered them around for the past three years – she actually sounded human.

Complicated, but human.

The day was shaping up to be an interesting one, after all.

* * *

A shower, breakfast and a four hour nap later, and Jack felt infinitely more like a human being than a collection of stiff joints, bruises and sore spots as his fingers deftly manipulated the myriad holo-windows before him, having only started the task of sifting through the stolen information ten minutes prior.

So far it had been fruitful. One of the first things that caught his attention was a digital copy of Astrid's Valkyrie leave papers, undoubtedly sent to her when she returned home from base. It contained the usual accoutrements associated with military paperwork; the soldier's name, rank, serial number along with the signature of Commander H. Larsen, who Jack astutely assumed to be Hans, the creator of the Valkyrie program.

Obviously due to  _Supreme_  Commander H. Larsen's face being all over the Media Stream whenever the warrior women were victorious over the abnormal kind, military or family politics had come into effect and thus Hans' control over the Valkyries had been supplanted – the Ghost cynically remarked in his mind that no matter how far humanity will advance, human nature will always be the same…especially when it came to greed, pride and arrogance.

It brought to mind something that Kozmotis once said:  _"the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb"_. Of course, considering the taller Ghost's experiences, it was an apt saying.

What did catch his eye was the leave duration – beginning on the twenty-fifth of August, the Valkyries had a whole  _three months_  of vacation, finishing on the twenty-second of November. At least two months of downtime remained, which meant that depending on how quickly and efficiently the move to  _Sanctuary_  went it was possible that the Ghosts could initiate a few fuel cell and food raids while the Valkyrie's pants were figuratively down.

In addition, there was also a holo-picture of Astrid, Merida and Rapunzel in full Valkyrie gear sans masks, their arms over each other's shoulders as they grinned proudly in front of a resting  _Hela-class,_ the name  _Valhalla_  adorning the fuselage just under the cockpit much like the  _Fairy_ 's. If he needed more confirmation of the truth, he had it.

There was also an incredibly amusing but distinctly less useful picture – specifically, a full body sketch that had been scanned onto the Uni-Com's memory database – of Kozmotis Pitchiner sprawled on the ground with an axe embedded in his head. Evidently Astrid still bore a grudge over her battle with him.

He had just brought up a holographic window containing blueprints for a large pulse cannon, bigger than anything he had seen before when there was a single knock at the apartment door. Turning his head to and keeping his eyes upon the apartment's entrance to his right, he slowly leaned toward the Uni-Com's obsidian table and carefully grasped the stun-pistol that rested upon it, kept close to hand should the need arise. Straightening up, he thumbed the button and heard the quiet  _bzzt_  of its activation, and trying to ignore the sudden rush of his heartbeat, he waited.

_Rap, rap, rap…rapraprap._

Eugene.

Jack closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief as he deactivated the pistol, but chose to slide it into the back of his pants just in case. He had enough of curveballs for one day. Returning his attention to the blueprints that hovered in front of him, he widened the picture with his fingers just as the door clicked open and his chocolate-haired companion sauntered casually through, greeting him with one of his famous smirks.

"Wow, crashed and burned, huh?" Eugene said teasingly.

"What are you talking about?" Jack shot him a look.

"A night of drinking and fun, and you're already hard at work the day after. What's the matter, did she blow you off?"

"In a manner of speaking, she did." Jack chuckled pointedly.

"In a manner of…" Eugene repeated slowly with narrowed and uncomprehending eyes, which widened as Jack's innuendo dawned upon him, "oh! OH! My man! So somebody did get lucky last night!"

"Yup," Jack agreed with a hint of acidity that Eugene missed, "and judging by how tired you look, so did you."

"Well yeah…" Eugene said in an uncharacteristically awkward tone. "I mean, we did…you know…sleep together. Thing is, we spent most of the night just…talking."

"About?" Jack said sharply, his eyes snapping over to his cohort.

"This and that, mostly. Hopes and dreams, our childhoods, things we like and don't like. Don't worry, I didn't tell her our real names or what we do…" Eugene said, the awkwardness giving way to an almost dreamy lilt.

"Good." Jack declared as he swiped his hand to the left, and the circle of hovering images obediently swirled anti-clockwise a few degrees, and focused his attention onto another set of blueprints – this time for energy dissipation armour.

"What about you? Did you and Astrid talk much?"

Jack slowly turned his head and shot Eugene the deadest of deadpan looks. No words needed to be said. The scout chuckled and raised both hands in surrender.

"Of course not, what was I thinking? Astrid seemed to be the  _'less talk, more action'_  type, if you know what I mean." he teased, and then nonchalantly walked over to the sofa behind Jack and flopped exhaustedly down, before speaking in that dreamy tone once more.

"I'll tell you what, Rapunzel is something else, dude. She's so bright and bubbly. It's refreshing, you know? And her laugh…oh man. I swear it made my chest all fluttery. Seriously, the time I spent with her…it was like nothing else mattered. Unity, my survivor's guilt, our mission, she helped me forget all of it. And it was bliss, you know?"

"You sound like you're in love." Jack noted quietly, with an unhappy edge.

"Nah," Eugene scoffed as he waved a dismissive arm, "love at first sight is a myth, perpetrated by old-world fairy tales and incurable romantics. I'm too cynical for that. But…"

"What?"

"She had some kind of meeting with her friends so that's why I had to leave, but before I left I gave her our Uni-Com contact details-"

"You did  _what?!"_  Jack practically shouted as he rounded upon his now-shocked friend.

"…um, gave her our number?" Eugene responded in complete and utter confusion.

"Oh, you idiot…" Jack hissed as he closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair in worry.

"Hey, what gives? It's only our number; she doesn't know our real identities! Yeesh, if you're flipping out about  _that…"_ Eugene protested, but trailed off – something that Jack did not miss.

"What did you do…" the Ghost groaned.

"Um…we're having our first proper date next week? Seriously, what's the issue?"

"You can't." Jack vetoed the idea flatly and mercilessly.

"Can't what?"

"You can't go on the date. Not now, not ever. Eugene, you can't see her ever again."

Eugene's expression slowly turned from complete confusion to dark anger, and he shot up from the sofa to threateningly stand inches from Jack's face. The Ghost flinched slightly – not as a result of the scout's sudden movement or his wrath, but of the reason  _why_  he had to put a stop to their burgeoning relationship.

"You know, you're a real piece of work. What's the matter, Jack? Can't bear to see me happy? Astrid doesn't want a relationship, so you get salty and want to destroy mine? You got friend-zoned by Anna, and you can't break her and Kristoff up, so you do it to me? You're such an-"

Eugene's vitriolic tirade was quite comprehensively interrupted by the striking of a fist across his left cheek, hard enough to shut him up but soft enough so as not to break the skin. Breathing exceptionally heavily, loudly and exclusively through his nose, Jack drew his arm back and let it fall to his side, but kept the seething rage in his glare as Eugene's eyes flashed with hurt and anger.

"Are you done?" the Ghost growled.

Eugene tongued his cheek at the same time as he gently touched the point of impact. Judging by the lack of a snappy retort, Jack figured that the scout was choosing his next words very,  _very_ carefully.

"Yeah." he said sourly.

"You're sure? I mean, if you've got more verbal diarrhoea then please…continue. If not, shut the fuck up and listen, because you  _need_  to hear this."

Eugene closed his mouth as he slowly nodded.

"Good. First off – I don't give a shit what Astrid wants or doesn't want. Secondly, Anna has, is, and always will be just my best friend, and the next time you insinuate something like that I will break your nose, got it?" Jack growled firmly.

"Understood."

"Fantastic. I think it's great you found someone you feel strongly for, and if it was any other person then I'd say go for it. But you can't. You can't see her or talk to her ever again."

"Why not?" Eugene asked softly, as though he was a child being told he couldn't be friends with someone any longer. His tone, along with the knowledge that not only would the revelation hurt him but that Jack would be the one to do it elicited a deep sigh, and the instant subsidence of the Ghost's seething anger.

"She's a Valkyrie, Eugene. They all are."

The scout widened his eyes and slowly shook his head in disbelief. Of all the reasons that there could possibly be – the idea that Rapunzel was a member of the very team that consigned Scout Team Red to oblivion…it was a bitter pill that he was unwilling to swallow.

"You're lying. Not Rapunzel. She can't be. Come on, man. She's too sweet…"

Jack closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He hoped that Eugene would have taken him at his word, that the fact they were on the same side and working together was enough concerning the veracity of his claim, and that he wouldn't have to resort to visual proof. Reluctantly opening his eyes, he stepped back and began to gently guide the circle of windows around him in a clockwise direction, and once the desired window slowed to a halt in front of him, he jabbed his fingers on its opposing corners, pulled apart the picture so it grew in size, and then placed an open hand behind it to move the holo-photograph of the three women in front of Eugene's face.

"No…" the scout breathed as his eyes traced over the Valkyrie uniform-clad Rapunzel, who smiled brightly and inanimately back at him. Even though Eugene maintained he was too cynical to believe in true love…Jack could almost  _hear_  a crack emanate from his chest.

"I'm sorry, Eugene." the Ghost muttered apologetically and sympathetically. Eugene said nothing in response for the first few seconds – rather, he swallowed thickly, frowned hard and tore his eyes away from the image as though the very sight pained him. He moved back towards the sofa and flopped down onto the uncomfortable cushions, resting the forehead in the crook of his right hand and stared off into space.

"This was what you were trying to tell me last night, wasn't it?" he murmured quietly.

"Yeah…" Jack replied, averting his gaze to his feet. He heard an audible and dejected sigh.

"Sorry, man. I should've listened…you know…the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Her body was so toned and fit…and whenever I asked what she did for a living, she avoided the question and asked about me. I just…"

Jack pocketed his hands, and slowly moved his gaze from the floor to Eugene's forlorn features.

"…we had that spark, that connection, you know? Like being with her was the easiest thing ever…and after all I've been through, I just…really liked it. Listening to her laughter brightened up my world, made it seem a little less…shit. Of all the other girlfriends I've had or ladies I've flirted with…she was the only one who I thought – even though we just met – I  _could_ see myself going the distance with. She made me feel…normal."

Jack knew that by  _'normal'_ Eugene meant  _'someone who wasn't hunted for simply being different'_  – another thing that made him feel guilty for revealing the truth, almost as guilty as Eugene would have been feeling for sleeping with and quite possibly falling  _for_  the one of the captors of Scout Team Red.

"Where did you find that picture, anyway?" the scout asked curiously as he moved his eyes over every single one of the hovering windows, avoiding the picture like it was poison.

"Astrid's Uni-Com. I downloaded some stuff onto a data cylinder; I was just going through it when you came back." Jack explained, relieved at the change in conversation topic. The brunette scout flicked his eyes across to the Ghost's sympathetic orbs, and briefly studied him before speaking.

"Want a hand?"

Truthfully, Jack was fully capable of sifting through the stolen intel himself, and normally he would – but he understood  _why_ Eugene was offering to help. Sometimes, a distraction is all you need…so the answer was easy.

"Sure."

Eugene smiled emotionlessly, rose from the sofa and joined the young Ghost in appraising the data, focusing themselves on questioning the need for huge pulse cannons and wondering if it was connected to the redirection of city construction materials as well as the enhanced unidium core, and hoping that Hiccup could fashion something to get past the Valkyrie's energy dissipation armour.

Not a word was spoken of Rapunzel or the other Valkyries.

* * *

_Time: 12:55_

"Wait, lemme get this straight. Elsa didnae just contact ye, but invited all o' us fer a coffee date? Are we talkin' about tha same Elsa here?"

Merida seemed to be as incredulous as Astrid was, given that it was the third time the blonde had relayed the events of the morning. Clad in grey pants with a matching mandatory Upper Level outdoor military pea-coat, with her inimitable red curls draped over both shoulders, the archer viewed her with a look of pure disbelief. Under Astrid's suggestion, the three women had arrived at the moderately busy coffee plaza nearby the holo-theatre in the  _Entertainment District,_  and seated themselves on high stools around a plain white circular bistro table to prepare themselves while the midday sun shone down upon them.

"…again, that's how it went. Do you want me to repeat it a fourth time, or shall I beat it into your head?" Astrid said in a mildly threatening manner, brandishing a plastic coffee stirrer at her battle-sister for emphasis.

"I actually think it's kinda cool." Rapunzel shrugged, brushing away some errant sugar granules from the front panel of her identical grey coat – no matter where she was or what she was wearing, it was a  _thing_  with Rapunzel Corona to accidentally spill sugar down her clothing.

"Ye what?" Merida cocked an eyebrow, looking at the brunette as if she had spontaneously grown a second head.

"What? I do! I mean…sure, it's out of the blue and she hasn't exactly made friends with us…but…maybe she wants to change that?" Rapunzel offered meekly.

"Yer off yer box." the flame-haired woman declared.

"Whatever."

"Sisters, that's enough. Whatever Elsa's intentions are, we're not gonna find out until she gets here so…let's play along."

Astrid leaned forward and cast several glances to either side, before speaking in a hushed tone.

"And for the love of Unity, mind what you say. We still don't know if we can trust her."

Merida's  _"got it"_ mixed with Rapunzel's  _"duly noted"_ , and satisfied that her friends were clear on the matter, Astrid straightened up and took a sip from her hot black coffee. No sugar, no cream – bitter and with a kick, just how she liked it.

"Wonder what she'll want to talk about." the brunette mused as she stirred her latte and gazed into the swirling liquid with a dreamy look upon her bright features – an expression that elicited an exaggerated roll of Astrid's eyes.

"Probably Frost, Frost, an' more Frost. That she wants tae dismember him, or shove his staff up his arse, or stuff 'im full o' synth-candy and beat 'im like a piñata…" Merida grumbled, already bored of the prospect.

"Well," Astrid stiffened as her eyes locked upon a figure stood forty feet away, "we'll find out soon 'cause she's right over there."

Aquamarine and emerald eyes flicked up to Astrid's and then followed her gaze. Stood at the very edge of the plaza, her cerulean orbs scanning each table for a familiar face was Elsa Snowfield, with her hair in a tight bun and clad in a grey Unity pea-coat and matching pencil skirt, with stockings and one-inch heels – standard womenswear for inhabitants of the Upper City. Of course, you had the choice between grey, black or white – which almost  _no-one_ went for – but the style was the same. More fitted and feminine than the men's, but with identical single-breasted panels that buttoned down under the left shoulder and a mandarin collar around the neck.

Elsa noticed them just as Astrid awkwardly raised a hand in the air, and with a cheerful wave the smiling Valkyrie leader began to walk quickly over to them. A low, territorial growl could be heard from Merida's throat, followed by a sharp yelp as the tip of Astrid's foot made contact with her shin.

"You're all early." Elsa observed a little breathlessly as she arrived, with her right fingers hooked around a black handbag on her shoulder.

"Yeah, we figured we'd get a table as soon as we could. This place gets pretty nuts during lunch." Astrid offered breezily.

"Ah, good thinking. Erm, I'm going to order myself a drink and then I will be back, would anyone like a refill or something to eat?" Elsa asked, her gaze dancing between the three women. Her offer was returned with polite declines, and as she smiled and walked off to the moderately sized queue for the coffee dispenser, three pairs of eyes followed her with barely hidden surprise.

"Was it just me…" Astrid began.

"…or was Snow Queen actually  _nice_ tae us?" Merida finished.

"I told you there was a nice person under all that ice." Rapunzel smirked, sipping her latte with smug pride.

"Yer so naïve." Merida muttered.

"Just because I see the best in people doesn't make me naïve, Red. I get along with  _you_ , don't I?" the brunette teased, and pretended to recoil as Merida raised a fist in her direction.

"D'ye want a punch in tha' smart mouth, lassie?" the redhead joked, grinning. Even Astrid managed to put aside the incredulity to join in the quiet laughter, which continued even as Elsa returned and seated herself on the stool between the second-in-command and the redhead.

"Did I miss something?" the platinum blonde asked, still wearing a small but genuine smile.

"Nah, we're just indulging in our favourite game of  _Let's Poke Merida._ You get five points for a glare, ten points for a raised fist and fifty points for getting punched in the arm." Astrid snickered.

"Oh, and who's winning?"

"Me." Rapunzel grinned, bouncing gently on her stool. "I'm at a hundred and sixty points."

"Well, I suppose with the size of your hair, it must make you an easy target." Elsa teased.

A two-strong chorus of  _"ohoho!"_  erupted from Astrid and Rapunzel's surprised and heartily amused mouths, especially at the look of wide-eyed shock on the redhead's. Initially, Merida was too stunned to respond, until the fiery woman quickly reasserted her demeanour by narrowing her eyes and brandishing a clenched fist in the smirking platinum blonde's direction.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Valkyrie Leader Sass Queen is in the house! Fifteen points!" Rapunzel cheered.

From there, the ice having been broken at the expense of Merida's pride, the conversation was surprisingly free and easy. Rapunzel mostly led the questions and topics, with Merida occasionally adding her opinions to them and Astrid chiming in every now and then. The laughter was regular, and all four women found themselves neglecting their drinks in lieu of chatting.

However, Astrid noticed that Elsa rarely initiated any discussions, choosing instead to listen rather than speak – and when the topic swung to their lives before they became Valkyries, the quiet blonde offered nothing beyond an uncomfortable  _"oh, you know. The usual boring, high school stuff"_  as she scratched behind her ear. For someone who was interested in getting to know her squad members, she was offering little in return…and that began to annoy the second-in-command.

Of course, it wasn't like  _they_  were being completely open either.

One thing that escaped neither Astrid's nor Elsa's attention was the dreamy, wistful expression that danced across Rapunzel's features whenever she was not speaking, or part of a conversation. She would rest her elbow on the table with her chin in her hand and gaze off into space with a distracted smile, completely lost in her thoughts…and it wasn't long before the platinum blonde called attention to it.

"So, I assume that last night was good for you too, Rapunzel?" Elsa said pointedly and a little loudly, a teasing smirk upon her porcelain features.

"Hmm? What? Sorry, I was miles away."

"Yeah, we know," Astrid added, "since we sat down you've been daydreaming every so often."

"Have I? Oh, I'm sorry." the brunette replied awkwardly, as though she had been caught not paying attention in school.

"Well, go on then. I know what Astrid got up to last night, but what about you?" Elsa asked, resting her chin on a balled fist as she gazed at her squad member with an amused yet curious expression. Rapunzel's ears and cheeks instantly shone with a crimson tint as she bashfully looked at her coffee, unable to hide a shy smile.

"Well…it was only supposed to be a bit of fun…but I kinda met this guy."

"Oh?" Elsa prompted, smirking. Merida, however, rolled her eyes and rested her cheek in her hand as she deftly twirled a coffee stirrer around her fingers, already bored with the subject.

"His name is Zach, and he's really cute. I mean, I could take or leave his 'smoulder', but when we got back to my place and after we….you know…we started talking. A lot. Pretty sure it was dawn by the time we fell asleep."

"What did you talk about?

"This and that. Growing up, what schools we went to…that sort of thing. He used to live in one of the settlements far to the north with his parents, but something happened so he ended up drifting from place to place."

"What happened?" Astrid frowned.

"I don't know. When I asked, he changed the subject and asked about what high school was like for me…"

Rapunzel trailed off, and the shy smile grew into a toothy, warm grin.

"I like him. I really do. I know that we only knew each other for something like seven or eight hours…but there's something about him. Whenever I talked, it was like nothing else mattered to him but what I had to say. I mean…sure, he's a bit of a braggart, a little overconfident, tells  _awful_ jokes and sometimes thinks he's God's gift to women…but he couldn't stop smiling, and when he looked at me it was like…"

Rapunzel's words trailed off as an expression of bright happiness adorned her features.

"…after all those people that look at us with fear, even though we're behind masks…it was nice to have someone look at me like I'm the most beautiful person in the world. That's all."

The brunette flushed a deep red as she hunched herself in embarrassment. Astrid felt a twinge in her chest at those words – Chris didn't look at her like that at any point. Of course, it wasn't exactly like she  _wanted_  him to – that night was a pure session of stress release after all – but she couldn't deny the prickle of envy in her heart. She briefly wondered if, someday, someone would look at  _her_  that way.

"Anyway," Rapunzel added excitedly with a resurgence of bouncing as she spoke, "before we left, he asked me out on a date next week!"

"Aww, that's great!" Elsa smiled genuinely, and raised her cup of mocha as a salute. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks!" Rapunzel grinned cheerfully, and mimicked the platinum blonde's actions with her own cup.

"Yer a bloody disgrace tae the Valkyrie name," Merida grumbled, "seriously, one lad bats his eyelashes at ye and yer swoonin'. Bloody softie."

"What's with you?" Elsa frowned.

"Ignore her. She's just sour." Astrid scoffed, waving a dismissive hand in the curly haired woman's direction.

"I am not!"

"Why, did you not see any action last night?" Elsa smirked playfully. Astrid snickered behind her hand, both at the obvious baiting in the platinum blonde's question, and the fact that she netted herself another fifteen points.

"I dinnae need a man tae feel fulfilled, ye smart-arse! And fer yer information, I saw plenty! Two thousand credits worth, in fact!"

Elsa frowned in confusion and looked to Astrid for an explanation, evidently getting the wrong idea.

"She challenged the entire bar to beat her in a game of electronic darts. Hundred credits buy-in."

"Aye, an' I won every time." Merida added.

"That's cheating – you're the best markswoman in the continent." Elsa chided playfully.

"Exactly, so it was worth takin' those suckers fer every credit, thinkin' I was nothin' but a wee lassie and an easy mark. Still, none o' that matters." Merida grumbled, her voice trailing off to something that sounded like an indiscernible rant under her breath.

"Why?"

"She's still salty that Pitch is the only one she's ever missed." Astrid explained. Elsa rose her head with an  _"ah"_  of understanding.

"I didnae miss!" the redhead snapped, "tha bastard dodged it!"

"Dodge, miss, whatever. You still didn't hit him." Rapunzel teased.

"D'ye want a punch in tha mouth to go with that latte, flower-girl?" the beleaguered woman threatened, garnering nothing but a victorious snigger from the brunette, and the addition of a further fifteen points to her already high total.

"I can sympathise." Elsa offered. Astrid shot a look at Merida when she heard a barely audible  _"here we go…"_ , and administered another kick under the table as she raised the now cold coffee to her lips.

"Oh?" Rapunzel prompted.

"During my tangle with Frost, I managed to wound him across the upper back with my sword."

Astrid froze mid-sip, and felt the blood begin to trickle away from her face. Mercifully, no-one noticed.

It had to be a coincidence.

"I wish that I was able to cut a little deeper into him. That way, he would either be dead or captured, and we could have had meetings like this days ago. Still, I do console myself with one thing…"

"What's that?" Merida asked curiously.

"He should have a rather nice scar to remember me by."

Astrid's fingers trembled in shock, and the resultant loss of grip on her cup of coffee meant that it fell from her hands and landed on the bistro table with a loud  _clink_ , spilling its black contents all over the white surface and forcing the three women to recoil in surprise, shooting looks of pure incredulity at her.

It was no coincidence.

"You okay, Astrid? What happened?" Rapunzel frowned. Still in shock, Astrid was only peripherally aware of a hand resting upon her right thigh.

"Huh?" she answered faintly, the realisation making her feel like she had lost touch with reality.

"You look a little pale, is everything alright?" Elsa asked curiously.

Astrid blinked a few times as her eyes moved to the platinum blonde's, the brunette's and the redhead's in slow succession. Fear trickled down her spine and tightened her chest, and her heart began to punch the inside of her ribcage. She didn't even notice how her hands had frozen in position. She blinked a few more times, before a rush of self-preservation erupted from her mind and took control of her body – the longer she spent in shock, the more it looked suspicious.

"Yeah…" she offered lamely, "yeah, I'm fine. Last…last night took a lot out of me, you know? More than I thought. I guess I didn't have as much of a grip on the cup as I thought."

"Understandable," Elsa smiled warmly, "would you like me to get you another?"

Astrid blinked a couple of times before finally registering the question. "Yes please."

Elsa nodded as she dismounted the stool, and with an utterance of  _"be right back"_  she turned and walked off towards the coffee dispenser at the other end of the plaza, where only two people were queued. Watching from the corner of her eye, Astrid waited until she was out of earshot, and buried her worried face in her hands.

"What's tha matter, lassie?" Merida spoke in a hushed tone, a deep frown on her striking features.

"I can't believe it…no, this is…this is insane…" Astrid muttered incomprehensibly, still reeling from the realisation.

"What is?" Rapunzel prompted.

"Of all the bars, in all the cities…it had to be that one. It had to be him."

"What? Who? Chris? What are you talking about?" the brunette persisted.

"Shit…if anyone finds out, I'm dead. I'll be arrested, interrogated…probably executed…" Astrid hissed in worry as she drew her hands away from her face, and stared wide-eyed into her reflection in the spilled coffee.

"Lassie, yer not making any sense. The hell are ye harpin' on about?" Merida hissed.

"Sisters…I slept with a Ghost…"

Gasps erupted from Merida and Rapunzel's mouths as they jerked back in surprise, oddly mimicking the hands over their mouths. Wide-eyed looks of shock met with Astrid's expression of deep, deep anxiety as her gaze flicked between them.

"Ye gotta be shittin' me…" Merida gaped. Astrid merely shook her head.

"I wish I was _..._ "

"How do you know?" Rapunzel muttered quietly, the look of surprise still firmly etched upon her face.

"The scar. He had one, shoulder blade to shoulder blade…and it looked like it almost finished healing. When I asked him about it, he said it was just a construction accident…and his skin…it was so cold…I didn't just sleep with a Ghost…" she said in disbelief, unaware that her voice had grown a little in volume.

"I slept with Frost…"

What followed was the sound that Astrid least wanted to hear – the resonant shatter of a coffee cup on the grey, paved stone ground behind her. For the most fleeting of seconds, she cringed  _hard,_ and hoped against hope that it was just a careless accident, that someone had lost control of their hot drink and watched helplessly as it cascaded to the floor…and that it was nothing more than happenstance. As she slowly opened her eyes and gazed at her battle-sisters, she noticed with a sense of deep worry that their vision was not upon her, but somewhere over her left shoulder.

And as she slowly turned on her stool, and unwillingly rested her eyes upon the figure of Elsa Snowfield with shards of a coffee mug strewn over the floor, her hands frozen in place much like Astrid's was, and an expression that danced between pale-skinned shock and seething fury, she resigned herself to the truth.

Elsa heard everything.

* * *

 _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _**02:16:07:30:47** _

* * *

 


	17. The Ghost and the Valkyrie

All Astrid could  _see_  was Elsa, sharp and clear, frozen still with shock and rage against a backdrop of blurry figures, bistro tables and bright sunlight; all she could  _hear_ was the ambient noise of dozens of conversations, footsteps and ceramic  _clinks_  all melted into one muffled mess, and all she could  _feel_  was the impact of her twisting stomach on the floor, her heart shuddering to a halt with dismay and the inimitable tingle of the blood as it drained from her face.

She was  _supposed_  to be a fearless Valkyrie, but in that moment of realisation that Elsa heard  _who_  she slept with, the brash young woman knew well the prickle of uncertainty.

There was nothing but silence around the table, neither Merida nor Rapunzel dared to open their mouths for fear of disturbing the  _incredibly_  tenuous peace between simmering rage and paled horror, and for a time Astrid stared into the cerulean orbs of her superior, quietly hoping that through the instantaneous heat Elsa would realise that it was all an accident, a horrible coincidence that none of them could have foreseen. She blinked away the dryness in her eyes, a result of an unflinching gaze.

And that was all it took.

In an instant, Elsa moved from her spot of frozen shock and practically yanked Astrid by her forearm from the stool under the open-mouthed looks of surprise of her two battle sisters, frog marched her through the moderately thick crowds of men and women simply enjoying their day – and occasionally shouldering some that didn't move away in time – towards the public ladies bathroom at the other end of the plaza next to the holo-theatre, her vice-like grip not once lessening to the point that irritated pain blossomed under the platinum blonde's fingertips.

Astrid did not speak a word – nor was she able to – throughout the impromptu journey to seclusion, and it wasn't until Elsa thrust open the blue door that the darker blonde felt the grip disappear from her arm, only for a pair of hands to roughly shove her into the bright, white-tiled bathroom amidst gapes of confusion and surprise from three women washing their hands. Astrid barely managed to grab onto the nearby counter of sinks in time to prevent her from falling onto the floor, though only just.

"Clear the room." Elsa said loudly.

The three women glanced uncomprehendingly at each other. Elsa swore under her breath and retrieved her Valkyrie I.D. card from her handbag and held it up high for all to see, before sucking in a breath.

" _NOW!"_  she yelled, her eyes wide with anger.

The three women jumped in fright, and quickly scurried past the two Valkyries toward the door, droplets of water landing on the floor from their hands as they darted out. Pulling herself to a standing position with a heavy wince, Astrid remained close to the doorway as she rested her butt against the long, plain white counter that supported the sinks, and kept her eyes on one of the open cubicles as she massaged her aching wrist.

Elsa paced back and forth in her peripheral vision, the click-clack of her one-inch heels accompanying the heavy inhalations and exhalations through her nose. Each tiny impact of foot meeting floor sounded like a crack of thunder in Astrid's ears. She had seen the platinum blonde in a state of anger before, but not  _this_ angry. Nowhere near – and when the heel clicks briefly stopped, her heart shot into her mouth as she braced for the verbal assault that was undoubtedly due to come her way…except Elsa did not speak.

Chancing a glance over at the seething Valkyrie, Astrid quietly watched as her leader's hands fumbled around in her bag and drew out her silver pill case. She always wondered precisely what those pills were for, and had the good-natured meeting blossomed into a proper friendship, she would have asked. Of course, that was a moot point in light of her current predicament.

"Look, Elsa…I" she began.

"Don't." the Valkyrie leader snapped, as she closed the pill case with a metallic  _click_.

The door burst open just as Elsa popped two pills into her mouth, and both women snapped their heads at the two newcomers – Merida and Rapunzel, both wearing expressions of anxious worry. The second-in-command figured they must have felt the need to be around in case things went further south than they already were.

"Remain outside, and ensure I am not interrupted." Elsa hissed through gritted teeth, and Astrid could practically  _feel_  the heat of the glare she was shooting them.

The brunette and the red-head looked at their beleaguered comrade for confirmation, and in that moment she felt heartened by their subtle show of support, but nevertheless she slowly nodded her assent. Muttering a quiet " _'kay",_  the two women withdrew from the doorway and left them in silence once more.

* * *

 

Merida didn't like it one bit – she was loyal to her blonde friend to the death, and  _strongly_  disliked the idea of having to remain outside and play bouncer while Astrid undoubtedly caught hell from her superior. Sure, it was a hell of a mistake and one that the blonde would regret for some time, but to be alone in the bathroom with a vengeful Elsa was something that didn't sit well with the fierce redhead.

As she turned to stand beside the door and faced outwards, a black-haired, bob-cut woman who was too busy talking to someone on her wrist communicator made a beeline for the bathroom, her head bowed low as she ignored her surroundings…and it wasn't until the archer held out an impassive arm that she was forced to stop.

"Excuse me?" she said indignantly, "I have to visit the bathroom!"

"It's occupied, lass. Ye can't go in." Merida spoke simply.

"But…this is the only bathroom in the plaza!" the woman protested, throwing her hands to the sky in objection. Unmoved, Merida reached a hand into the pocket of her pea-coat, drew out her Valkyrie I.D. and brandished it three inches from the woman's nose.

"Find somewhere else."

The woman scowled as she opened and closed her mouth, evidently unwilling to concede the battle to the fiery redhead guarding the door, but eventually caved with a loud huff as she turned on her heels and stormed off.

"Haughty bitch." Merida muttered, and briefly wondered if it was to that woman or her leader that she was referring.

Movement from her right caught her eye, and as she cast a sidelong glance at her team-mate who stood by the other side of the door, she noticed how the brunette was fiddling with her fingers, an expression of deep consternation on her face. Returning her gaze to the plaza, vigilant for any more people answering nature's call, she tried hard to ignore Rapunzel's fidgeting and the irritation that it garnered, until it blossomed in her chest to the point that she couldn't take it anymore and rounded upon her team-mate.

"Alright, what's with ye? Ye're startin' tae fuck me off wi' that faffing." she snapped. Rapunzel jumped as her head shot over in surprise.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to annoy you, I just…" she began quietly, but trailed off as though finishing the sentence was something she was desperately reluctant to do.

"Just what?"

"Zach…he was with Chris…I mean Frost last night. Do you think he…do you think he's one of them?" the brunette finished worriedly, resting her eyes upon Merida's light blue orbs. For what felt like the first time, the redhead found herself at a verbal quandary; the entire situation unfolding before them only strengthened her resolve to remain single, that hooking up with men caused more trouble than it solved and that a simple  _I-bloody-told-ye-so_  was the order of the day…but something in the vulnerable expression that danced upon her team-mate's features, the look of worry and heartache in her emerald orbs as though the answer was something that her heart was riding on gave her pause – and for the first time in a long time, Merida chose the carrot over the stick.

"There's only one way tae find out, lassie."

"How?" Rapunzel asked quickly and hopefully, clasping her hands together over her chest.

"Call him on yer bracelet. If he answers, and he's all goo-goo over yer date then yer okay. If he doesn't, or he calls it off…then he's not Zach." Merida suggested, shrugging in an attempt to remain detached.

Rapunzel blinked twice as though not quite comprehending the redhead's idea, and then vigorously nodded as the simplicity hit her. "Call him. Yes…right. That makes sense. Sorry, I'm just…"

"Smitten, lassie. Tha word yer lookin' fer is smitten." Merida finished sagely, and waved her hands in a " _be gone"_ suggestion for the brunette to find a private place. Rapunzel hurried past her and around the corner of the bathroom's exterior wall, sliding her sleeve from her wrist as she did so.

* * *

 

"I'll never truly have their loyalty, will I?" Elsa observed quietly, her eyes remaining on the doorway in an attempt to set it aflame. Astrid stiffened at the change in tone.

"You're their C.O., they'll follow you." she answered slowly.

"That may be, but they are not completely faithful to me. They follow my orders out of adherence to the rules, not because I am giving them. I have seen the way they look at you, the way they look to you for guidance. They do not look at me in such a way." she added, and then slowly turned her fiery gaze to Astrid's sky blue eyes.

"And neither do you."

Elsa was right, of course, Astrid could not deny that. Not that she would.

"No, I don't." she answered bluntly.

"Is  _that_  why you went and fucked the man responsible for my parents' murder? Pulled him into your bed  _knowing_  what he did to me, so you three could have a giggle about it behind my back?" Elsa hissed, advancing on her to the point that their noses were less than a foot away from each other.

"Oh get over yourself!" Astrid rolled her eyes, "Yeesh, locking yourself up like that's done  _wonders_  for your paranoia!"

She didn't even flinch when, in a fit of anger, Elsa drew a clenched fist back ready to strike her across the face.

"If you do that, you'd better be ready for what comes after." the darker blonde growled.

One of the aspects of Astrid's personality was her hot head, and it got her into more than a few scrapes in high school and occasionally during Valkyrie training. Once, one of the male instructors made a lecherous remark about how sweaty she was after three circuits of the airfield, and that he'd like to make her even  _sweatier_. He was promptly sent to the infirmary with a broken nose and several missing teeth, and Astrid was sent to solitary confinement for two days as punishment. She didn't regret it one bit, nor did she regret openly antagonising Elsa in the bathroom – even if there was the distinct possibility she could get into whole heaps of trouble.

Elsa slowly let her arm fall to the side but kept the mask of seething fury etched upon her porcelain features, and it was all Astrid could do to not betray her relief by letting out a sigh – had Elsa followed through on her physical threat, she would be bound to retaliate in kind, and given that her superior was proven in several sparring exercises to be consistently the better fighter, she had no doubt that in the end she would be the one on the ground when the police arrived, alerted by the struggle.

Of course, she'd make Elsa fight for every inch of ground and the scuffle would be bloody, but that was neither here nor there. Pride and potential imprisonment was on the line.

"Talk," Elsa's voice rang out in the empty bathroom like a smooth crack of thunder, "and we'll see if I believe you."

The platinum blonde took two steps backward and folded her arms, not once letting her gaze fall from the orbs of sky blue. Astrid closed her eyes in relief that the crisis was averted for the moment, and moved a hand up to her face to draw away the errant bangs that covered her eyes.

"He said he was a column maintenance techie, that he'd just come to relax after work. We all had drinks, and one thing led to another – so yeah, I had sex with him. I mean, his body was pretty toned and athletic, and when I asked him about the scar he just said it was an occupational accident…Elsa, I swear, I didn't know who he was until you said where you slashed him. I never fought him in the Depot, so I had no idea what his voice was like…" Astrid spoke slowly and clearly.

"If I did, I would have killed him, or at least knocked him out. You have to believe me."

Her explanation given and plea for belief uttered, Astrid waited quietly while Elsa intently studied her, a slight shift of her jaw to the right the only indication that the headstrong woman didn't confess to a mere statue. She didn't notice how her breathing had ceased with anticipation.

"I believe you," Elsa announced flatly, something that elicited another sigh of relief, "but this changes nothing."

"You fucked him, Astrid. The man who took part in the murder of my parents, the man who for three years has eluded us and  _you fucked him_. It doesn't matter if you knew who he was or not, you took him to your bed and you. Fucked. Him." the platinum blonde spoke slowly, firmly, every word enunciated with anger.

Astrid didn't like where Elsa was going with that, where she was being made out to be a whore that slept with Frost merely to piss off her commanding officer. Sure, she was rude, brash and spiteful on occasion, but  _not_  stupid enough to knowingly sleep with the enemy. It was for that reason, that implication, that her hot-headedness rose to the fore once more and guided her every word.

"Yeah, we fucked," she snarled tauntingly as she pushed herself from the counter and slowly stepped towards her superior, "many times in fact. And you know what? It was  _good_. I enjoyed every second of it – but for the  _last time_  I did  _not_  know who he was!"

"Would you have slept with him if you did?" Elsa snarled in return, unmoved by the display of aggression.

"No! What the hell do you think I am?"

"I don't know anymore, Astrid. All I know is you betrayed me-" Elsa spoke quietly, but firmly.

"Oh will you listen to yourself! You're acting like-" Astrid snapped over her.

"-and there's only one way you can make it right. You are coming with me, we will contact Commander Larsen, and you will tell him  _everything you know,_  so we can get his face out on the Media Stream." Elsa continued, unhindered by the interruption.

Astrid's eyes went wide, and her aggressiveness faltered with the hitch of her breath. Was she hearing this correctly? Was Elsa openly insinuating that she would sell out her own subordinate for revenge?

"I can't." she muttered. Elsa's eyes shot open as she gasped with indignant anger.

"Why not?" she hissed, "one of the Ghosts is in the city  _right now_ , and you are the only person that knows anything about it!"

"Exactly! If I tell Larsen who he is and what he looks like, he'll want to know how I know all that! I don't think a simple gut feeling is going to cut it, do you? Fuck, do you even know what they'll do to me if they find out I slept with a Ghost?!" Astrid shouted, partly in worry but mostly from the heightened emotions that coursed through her, turning her heartbeat into a vicious punching and intensifying the fire of anger in her chest.

"Maybe they should!" Elsa practically shrieked, "I should report you right now for what you've done!"

"What, so you can satisfy your lady-boner for vengeance? Fuck you." Astrid snarled.

"Don't you dare talk to me that way. I am still your commanding officer!"

"We're off duty, which means I can talk to you however I want to – and you're not going to report me." Astrid spoke loudly and firmly, and with a heavily taunting edge to her words.

"Oh?" Elsa hissed, "please, enlighten me."

"Two reasons. Remember that guy who openly protested against Unity, yelling out all this pro-Alliance stuff? Remember how they crucified him – literally – and left his body in the settlement where his family lived? Unity doesn't just punish, Elsa. They make examples. They would come for me. They would interrogate and then execute me. Then they would come for  _you_ , because you're my superior officer and therefore also take responsibility for what I did. Then they would come for Rapunzel because she took Zach home, and just for the hell of it, they would come for Merida because she just happened to be there. We would  _all_  burn."

Elsa blinked once, but seemed to notice the faltering of her stance of barely controlled indignant, betrayed ire as she sucked in a breath through her nose and reasserted her demeanour.

"Then I would negotiate that only  _you_  are punished. Larsen will listen to me, and intercede on our behalf." she taunted in return.

"Then that brings me to the other reason – those pills you're taking. I don't know what they're for, and I don't care…but I bet the Inquisitors will. I know there's something you're trying to hide, Snow Queen." Astrid narrowed her eyes, allowing the left side of her lips to smirk. Elsa's eyes went wide in horror…and in that moment the brash woman  _knew_  she had the advantage.

"You know  _nothing_ about me." Elsa snarled – and Astrid took the opportunity to press home her edge in a coup de grace.

"I know enough to know that if I go down, I'm taking you with me."

Elsa flinched slightly, barely noticeable except to the darker blonde watching for her reaction. In a way, Astrid hated having to use such a cheap shot – sure, she fought dirty when it came to actual combat and generally eschewed honour in favour of victory, but her heart flickered with guilt and shame at having to resort to underhanded tactics. Yet, it was not just her life at stake, but Rapunzel and Merida's too…and one thing that Astrid could always be counted on to do was to protect her friends by any means necessary, even if that included regrettably destroying a burgeoning friendship and fragile trust between her and the platinum blonde.

"What you've done…" Elsa began slowly, carefully, enunciating each word so Astrid didn't miss a thing, "I can't forgive…but I'm willing to keep it between all of us if you do one thing for me."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Give me his fake name." her leader answered simply.

"Why?"

"I will use it to find where he lives, and then I'm going to kill him."

Astrid flinched at Elsa's change in tone, from firm and stern to murderous and resolute. The platinum blonde, however, seemed to take it as hesitation and reluctance, and a flicker of rage shone in her eyes.

"It's either that or I march you to the Inquisitors and tell them everything, regardless of what you  _think_  you know. The choice is yours."

"Chris," Astrid answered without missing a beat, "his name…fake name…is Chris."

"Do you have his Uni-Com details?"

"No," she answered equally quickly, struck with the knowledge that Rapunzel  _did_  and so far was exempt from Elsa's wrath, and felt obliged to ensure it stayed that way, "no I don't. One night stand, that's all."

Elsa swore under her breath as she swept away, a cool rush of air filling the void she once occupied and ruffling Astrid's bangs to their previously irritating position. Her eyes remaining on the blue toilet cubicle in front of which her leader previously stood, she heard the wrenching open and slamming shut of the bathroom door, and as she hung her head she let out a sigh of relief that carried away the pent-up emotions and unbelievably taut tension that filled her body.

"Everything okay, Astrid?"

The blonde Valkyrie slowly turned her head, just enough for her eyes to rest upon the concerned face of Rapunzel poking through the doorway, a frown etched on her bright features. Astrid offered a weak smile, and inclined her head as a suggestion for the brunette to enter.

"Yeah, I'm fine." she muttered as her two battle-sisters filed through the door, with Merida immediately striding over to embrace the second-in-command in a supportive and tight hug, one that Astrid returned with gratitude and comfort, yet only lightly as her mind was completely elsewhere.

"Ye're sure?" Merida persisted, pulling away from the hug yet keeping her hands on Astrid's shoulders, while the blonde's hung to her sides. Offering her own support, Rapunzel placed a hand on her back and slowly rubbed.

"Yeah, I'm just…" she replied weakly, then as a wave of realisation crashed down upon her, she buried her horrified face into her hands, "…shit!"

"What?" Rapunzel asked as she craned around for a better view.

"I think Frost accessed my Uni-Com." Astrid groaned behind her hands.

"Holy…how? How d'ye know?"

Astrid shook her head in disbelief both at how she was seemingly so expertly played, and how she completely missed the obvious clue earlier. "When Elsa called this morning, the A.I. said  _'Good morning once again'._  I didn't register it at the time, 'cause of my freaking hangover…shit!"

Her eyes shot up to Merida's pools of aquamarine, lines of panic etched upon her forehead.

"What am I gonna do? He's probably downloaded a ton of crap he can use!"

It was a strange reversal of roles; on any other occasion, Valkyrie Second Astrid Hofferson was usually the woman that Third and Fourth Merida and Rapunzel looked to for advice, guidance, or even small pointers. It was a role that she was happy to play, the elder sister that took care of her siblings. In that moment, however, Astrid was in a state of panic, and the one looking for guidance from the flame-haired woman in front of her.

"Does anyone else know about this? Have ye told Snow Queen?" Merida asked with urgency as she gripped the blonde's shoulders. Astrid vigorously shook her head – at least  _that_  she could be thankful for.

"Then it stays between us, right? When ye go home, delete yer download history, so if tha resourceful little bastards hit anythin', there's nothin' that can be traced back ta ye. Flower-Girl an' I ain't gonna say a word." Merida smiled supportively, giving her shoulders an encouraging squeeze.

Astrid, if she  _could_  cry, would have done under the tide of reassurance that rushed forth from her heart, after hearing her team-mate's words of sincerity and solidarity. When the three women arrived at boot camp after their surprise recruitment by Commander Larsen, they made a pact to  _always_  look out for each other – and it heartened the young Valkyrie to know that the promise they made was still as strong as ever.

"Thanks, Bear." she sniffed as she reached up to squeeze Merida's right hand.

"Anytime, lass. We watch each other's back, battle or no battle – s'probably why we're still alive after all tha fights we've been through."

Something in Merida's words struck a chord within the blonde, awakening a quiet notion that had been barged aside by Elsa's discovery, and the knowledge that Frost had stolen some information from her Uni-Com…and as the thought coalesced from the firing of neurons along their pathways to a full blown understanding, she became acutely aware of her own heart – and the fact that it was _still beating._

"…I slept with a Ghost…" she mumbled as she gazed vacantly through the curtain of red curls that sat happily on Merida's shoulder.

"Aye, we know, tha's why yer in this mess." the red-head groaned as she rolled her eyes.

"No…you don't understand. I just had this thought…why am I still here?"

"What do you mean?" Rapunzel asked, clearly not getting it.

"I told him last night that I was a Valkyrie, so from that moment he  _knew_  what I was. I mean, he zoned out when I told him, but other than that…"

She moved away from Merida's supportive hold, and quietly paced the bathroom with one hand across her chest that supported the other covering her mouth in thought.

"I was open, vulnerable…I mean, I was completely naked and fucking him senseless for most of the night. This morning, he woke up before me, meaning he could easily have killed me in my sleep and no-one would have known until it was too late. Fuck…I'm butt naked, right  _there,_ asleep in my own bed! He could have slit my throat and watched me die…but he didn't. He knew what I was, what I've done and he let me live. Why?"

"Maybe he was so blown away – emphasis on  _blown –_ by yer prowess that he dinnae kill ye 'cause he was hopin' fer a repeat showin'?" Merida smirked. Astrid stopped in her tracks and shot her a sneering  _ha-ha_  look at the obvious tease.

"I guess I'll never know for sure." she finished grimly as she folded her arms, and leaned against the dividing wall that separated the cubicles.

"What d'ye mean?" Merida asked, cocking her head in frowning curiosity.

"I told Elsa what his fake name was. That's why she stormed out; she's going to find out where he lives so she can kill him."

"What about Zach? What if he's staying in the same place?" Rapunzel breathed, her lips parted with obvious anxiety.

"Dunno…but considering just how  _pissed_  Elsa is, she'll probably kill him too. They'll never see her coming."

"No!" Rapunzel squeaked as she rushed forth towards her and gripped Astrid's upper arms with a tightness born of panic, a mask of the same emotion etched upon her dainty features. "We have to do something!"

"…we do?" Merida gaped, looking at the brunette as if she had spontaneously grown a  _third_ head.

"Yes! We can't let her kill him!" Rapunzel urged in a rapid voice, its high pitch betraying her.

"Who, Frost? Or Zach?" Astrid asked pointedly as a single brow rose. She made a mental note to challenge her shorter comrade to a game of poker one day – because Rapunzel was evidently useless at keeping her cards close to her chest.

"Zach, of course! I don't care about Frost! Please, I have his details…we have to warn him…"

"Rapunzel…" Astrid spoke quietly and slowly as she closed her eyes, "what you're asking me to do…you're asking me to commit treason to save his life. If anyone finds out we warned him, we'll all be executed…"

"Not tae encourage the wee smitten schoolgirl," Merida interrupted, "but yer already up shit creek without a paddle 'cause o' sleepin' with Frost. Dinnae matter if ye're caught warnin' him or not, ye could still hang fer sleepin' with tha enemy. In fer a penny, lass."

"I thought you'd be all for letting her kill them, Mer." Astrid frowned in mild puzzlement.

"Aye, but it's either that or deal with Flower-Girl mopin' around with a broken heart fer the rest o' her days. Between endurin' that an' another charge o' treason, I know which one I'd pick." she shrugged nonchalantly. Astrid stared at her in barely veiled surprise – Merida of all people was advocating  _warning_  the enemy that Elsa, and by extension, Unity was coming for them. Maybe Astrid didn't know just how strong their bond was.

"Before we do anything," she said quietly, and slowly, making sure the brunette understood every word, "I need to know: are you  _sure_  this is what you want? 'Cause if we do this, if we open that door…there's no going back. We could be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives."

"I'm sure." Rapunzel answered with sincerity and without hesitation.

Astrid studied the brunette for a moment, wondering if she  _herself_  was ready to step further on the path of secrecy and silence than she already was, but the imploring shine in her ally's eyes reminded her of the solemn promise she made to herself long ago – she would do anything for her sisters.

"Good. Okay, sisters, here's the plan. Elsa has a ten minute head start, but she's got a lot of detective work to do plus the journey down to the Lower City takes time, so we have the advantage. I only live a short walk away, so we're gonna use my Uni-Com to make the call. Zach isn't picking up for you, but maybe Frost will be curious enough to answer me."

"What if Elsa finds out ye told 'em she's comin'?" Merida pointed out.

"I'll delete all records of the call, and tell Frost to do the same."

"What makes ye think he'll do it?"

"He didn't kill me, despite having loads of opportunities, so something tells me he's an honourable man. Of course, it's no guarantee, but it's our best shot at pulling this off. Are we all on board with this plan?" Astrid spoke commandingly and firmly, and received nods of assent and acknowledgement from her allies.

"Good. Let's go save the enemy."

* * *

 

_Time 15:28_

 

"Just so we're clear," Eugene asked as he raised a finger in the air, "how do we get on the train?"

In response, Jack dug his fingers into both ends of the rudimentary holographic representation of the northern settlement, the place in which the supply train would be stopping to undergo its shift change. The blocks that symbolised nearby shacks along with the larger rectangle denoting the station grew in size as he motioned to pull the shimmering blue three-dimensional image apart, and for further flavour he plucked three intangible cylinders from the menu of shapes that hovered to his left and placed them by the 'station' – ostensibly to represent the hover train. Stood on the other side of the 'map' that shimmered between them in front of the Uni-Com that obediently projected it, Eugene watched with his hands together behind his back as the Ghost arranged the cylinders where they were supposed to be.

Technically, the software he was using was designed for small children to learn about shapes and construction, but in terms of it being used to plan a stealthy insertion, it served its purpose.

"Like I said, we've got two options. One: we knock out a couple of clones and steal their uniforms to sneak on that way, but then we run the risk of either someone finding the bodies and raising the alarm, or being discovered when they do one of those annoying random checks – you know, in case someone's trying to do what we're trying to do." Jack answered simply as he plucked a holographic sphere from the menu, and tossed it up and down like a ball.

"And the other option?"

"I fly us onto the roof of the train after it leaves the station." the Ghost said breezily, as though inserting oneself onto a moderately guarded supply train was no big thing. Eugene's eyes flicked up from the map to regard him with a mildly disbelieving frown.

"That easy, huh?"

"Easy? No. There could still be guards on the roof, so we'd have to take them out, but simpler? Yeah."

The scout's eyes returned to the line of cylinders as he studied their hollow, blue-hued forms, and then shrugged in quiet resignation. "Guess we'll go for door number two, then."

Jack smirked as he tossed the intangible sphere at his friend's face, and snickered loudly when the goateed man weaved sharply to the left to avoid it like it was a  _real_  ball, shooting him a mildly irritated scowl.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, just wanted to see if you'd actually-" Jack teased, but was summarily interrupted by the Uni-Com's feminine tones sweetly radiating from the speakers. It was all he could do to not take his staff and jab it into the glass screen in frustration – since two-thirty, Eugene had been receiving non-stop calls from Rapunzel Corona, and it was starting to infuriate the usually chilled-out scout.

" _You have a call waiting."_

"If it's for Mr Laevai, then reject it." Jack said indifferently as his ally rolled his eyes and stalked into the open plan kitchen to pour himself a drink of water.

" _It is not. It is a call for you, Mr Ryan."_ the Uni-Com elaborated, and he could  _swear_  he heard a subtle edge of snark to the software's voice.

"From?" he frowned in surprise.

" _Miss Astrid Hofferson."_

Jack sighed as he closed his eyes in resignation. Both men knew about Astrid, Merida and Rapunzel's true professions, but as far as they were aware, the three women didn't know that was the case. In his mind, Rapunzel's first call was probably to see how Zach was doing, and every call after that was to find out why he was ignoring her. Evidently she sought help from her taller friend – and now Jack was going to catch flak.

Still, they needed to keep their identities secret, so he reckoned he could take whatever Astrid threw at him in defence of her friend. He did survive the night, after all.

"Delete holo-imaging session, and put her up on the main screen, if you'd be so kind."

The rudimentary 'map' dissolved into nothingness as the sound-line of the Uni-Com's moderately powerful A.I. shrank to the right, only to be replaced by Astrid's strikingly pretty features, cut into a sharp scowl as she regarded him with eyes of intense fire. He expected that.

"Astrid. What's up? Thought you weren't interested in a relationship." he said in an airy, indifferent voice.

" _Shut the hell up, Frost."_

He didn't expect  _that_. Not in a million years. He felt his face pale even further than its already white complexion as the blood receded from his cheeks, and felt his stomach involuntarily clench with the realisation. Not to mention the stall of his heartbeat. How did she find out? Was it the scar on his back, or did he let slip an important clue in between the drinks, thrusts, moans and screams? He glanced over at his team-mate whose rectangular glass was frozen halfway to his lips, an expression of wide-eyed shock on his features.

"What do you want?" he asked, hoping that his voice was as emotionless as possible.

" _Mostly to beat the everliving shit out of you-"_

"Well, that's not predictable at all." he muttered sarcastically.

" _-but that's not why I'm calling. We don't—hey!"_

Astrid's face disappeared from the screen, evidently barged aside by someone in an attempt to take over the call – that someone being Rapunzel. She wore a deep frown much like the blonde, but behind the blue-hued eyes Jack could tell whatever she wanted was important.

" _Where's Zach, if that really is his name? I want to talk to him."_ she asked urgently. Jack cast a questioning glance at his friend, who shook his head in response.

"He doesn't want to talk to you." the Ghost answered in a low rumble.

" _Why not? Just let me talk to him!"_

"No."

" _Why the fuck not?! I just want to know why he's ignoring me, if what we had-"_

"If what you had was real?" Jack interrupted harshly, "Oh it was real alright. He wasn't lying to get in your pants. He really liked you, and I mean  _really_."

" _Then why-"_

"Why? Well, let me think. He knows what you are, Valkyrie. He knows what you've done."

Rapunzel's mouth opened and closed in incomprehension, and though a small part of the Ghost felt his heart twinge at the look of wounded shock in the woman's big eyes, the rest of him burned with protective anger.

"Let me ask you a question. Merida and Astrid, they're your team-mates, right? They're like family to you?"

" _Yes."_  she answered quietly. Jack cast another glance to his team-mate – who slowly nodded as he walked out of the kitchen towards his bedroom. The Ghost took the click of the door being closed as a signal that his friend did not want to hear anything that he was about to say.

"Okay. Well, remember the Battle of the Depot, when you captured four scouts? They were  _his_  team, Valkyrie. They were  _his_  family, and they're all dead. You might as well have killed them yourselves. He's not talking to you, because…"

Jack's voice softened by a wide margin, whether it was the emotional context of what he was about to say or the look of sheer shock and moist-eyed hurt on the Valkyrie's face, he didn't know.

"…because he's fallen for one of the very women that took away his family, and he knows it. Do you have  _any_  idea what that's doing to him, how much that makes him hurt?"

Rapunzel visibly choked at the revelation, and though the Ghost took a little pleasure in the volley of blunt honesty, he mostly felt a distinct sense of sadness for the two smitten people. Love, or at least the first steps toward it which he knew they felt was a hard thing to come by in this shitty world, and part of him hated having to be the man that shot Cupid in the face with a stun pistol. He knew from the bar that, like Eugene, Rapunzel was someone who wore her heart on her sleeve.

The blue-hued brunette covered her mouth with her hand as her eyes clamped shut, and Jack caught a blur of curls fixed to a fiery scowl as she was led off screen, ostensibly by Merida. He waited for a few seconds while Astrid returned to her previous position, her face etched with an expression that danced between pity for her team-mate and a disapproving frown as she watched whatever was happening to her right.

" _You shouldn't have been so hard on her, Frost. She was the reason we called."_  she mused.

"Yeah, well, the truth hurts." he said in an attempt to sound as indifferent as possible.

" _Yeah,"_  she sighed, and turned her gaze from whatever was happening off screen towards him,  _"yeah, it does. Luckily you and I don't have that problem...do we?"_

"Astrid, I enjoyed every second of last night…but as far as getting attached? Hell no." he scoffed.

" _Good. I've got one question though; why didn't you kill me? You had every chance to, so why am I still here?"_  she asked – her mask of mild curiosity betrayed by the need for understanding in her eyes.

"That would be classed as cold-blooded murder, and I don't do that. If I do decide to kill you, Astrid, you will be awake, you'll be facing me, and you'll be armed."

" _So it's like that?"_

"It's like that." he nodded affirmatively.

" _Great, 'cause that makes this easier. I'm calling to warn you."_

"About what?" Jack frowned – completely thrown for a loop. Not only did a Valkyrie know he was a Ghost and was calling as opposed to breaking down his door, but was also potentially risking her life to warn him of impending trouble. To say it dropped a ball of confusion in his mind was an understatement.

" _Snow Queen knows who you are, and she's coming for you."_

And then that ball of confusion became an iron ball of fear that thudded into his gut. He felt the nerves in his face and fingers begin to tingle as the blood receded, and tried to swallow away the dryness in his mouth and throat. Flashes of that night coursed through his mind's eye, of an impenetrable mask hiding an unknown face of hate, and the scar on his back began to burn and ache as he felt an invisible blade slice through his skin.

"How long do I have?" he asked, smacking his lips in an attempt to stave off the desert that was his mouth and throat. Astrid's eyes flicked off screen for the briefest of seconds before returning her almost concerned gaze to him.

" _Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. You would have had more time, but we wasted it with all this talking – oh, and for the love of all things holy, delete your call records."_ Astrid explained.

"Yeah…I'll…I'll do that. Why are you risking everything by warning me?" he asked.

" _Couple of reasons, actually. One, Rapunzel doesn't want Zach to die. The other…you didn't kill me last night, which means technically I owe you my life. I don't like debts. I don't like owing people anything. So by warning you, I'm saving_ your  _life, which means we're even."_

The visual representation of Astrid's scowling face grew a few inches in size as she leant towards the Uni-Com screen on her end, evidently attempting to make a point.

" _But remember this: while you were a damn good fuck and I don't in any way regret what we did last night; if I see you again, on the battlefield or in the city, I will kill you."_ she growled menacingly.

Whatever stunned surprise that previously gripped his being, whatever confusion and complete puzzlement that coursed through his mind and body was washed away by Astrid's threat by a wave of cockiness and arrogance that, amongst other things like his love of children and loyalty to his friends and his kind, defined Jack "Frost" Overland. Cocking his head to the side, he smirked cheekily at her as he held up a hand in preparation to end the call.

"Many have tried, Astrid, and Snow Queen is the only one who came close. Trust me…you're no Snow Queen." he taunted, throwing in a wink for emphasis.

The blonde's eyes immediately went wide with shock and indignation as her mouth opened to let loose a vitriolic retort, but an instantaneous wave of his hand ended the call and obliterated her visual representation before she could yell the first syllable. Chuckling, he reached over to the faintly glowing receptacle housing the all-important data cylinder, and as he plucked the small, transparent object and slid it into the pocket of his brown pants, he called out for the scout's attention.

The bedroom door to his right clicked open. "What's up?"

"We're leaving the city." Jack ordered.

"Why?" Eugene frowned.

"Snow Queen knows where we are, and she's coming."

"Shit," Eugene hissed, "so what's the plan? We pack up and scoot?"

"We've got twenty minutes and it'll only take five to get our stuff, but what I want you to do is get the fire axe from the hallway and trash the Uni-Com with it. Make sure you get the hard drive. Astrid called to warn us, so I want to make sure it doesn't come back and bite her in the ass."

"Why? Jack, she's a Valkyrie." Eugene rolled his eyes, prompting a rather stern glare from the Ghost.

"Well, aside from the fact she has a rather fine ass, she's risking the hell out of it, so…I'm gonna return the favour and cover it for her."

"Whatever. So the plan is; we get our stuff, trash the Uni-Com, and then disappear before Snow Queen comes?" Eugene asked for clarification.

"Pretty much. As for Snow Queen…" Jack nodded, but looked off to the side as an idea flashed across his mind, betraying a cheeky smile and a foolish glint in his eye.

"Wait…I know that look. That's the  _'Jack is about to do something stupid'_ look." Eugene said suspiciously as he narrowed his eyes.

* * *

 

_Time: 15:55_

 

The handle of the kitchen knife felt heavy in her hand – mostly with purpose rather than its inherent weight – and her heart felt like someone was hammering a war drum as she quietly crept down the empty fourth floor hallway of Apartment Complex E. She was close, so very close. Ten steps away was her quarry, her vengeance, the source of her pain and emotional suffering.

Frost the Ghost. Frost the Hunted. Frost the Murderer.

Finding him was relatively easy. Despite only learning half of his fake name, she used it along with her Uni-Com's custom-programmed search software to pick apart the digital admittance records of the night before – which was pitifully simple; there were only two people granted entrance to the Upper Level at midnight and one of them was Astrid – and then cross-referenced the resultant name with the Unity Census Database. So, armed with the full name of Christopher James Ryan, his apartment location and a knife that she appropriated from her kitchen, Elsa had set about the task of snuffing Frost's life at the tip of her blade. A task she set herself three years ago.

The only issue was how time consuming the entire affair was. It took her nearly an hour from the moment she left Astrid in the public bathroom to the instant she entered the apartment complex, an hour of rising frustration and panic that her quarry would escape before she arrived. To find out that not only was he in the country but also in the exact same city was a blessing she was all too willing to take advantage of, and a chance she feared she may never get again.

In a way, she had to thank Astrid. If her second-in-command had not slept with him that night, then she would have been blissfully unaware of Frost's presence right under her nose. So, keeping her secret was a small price to pay for achieving vengeance.

She closed to within five steps of the doorway, and her hand involuntarily tightened around the handle. Trying to ignore the grimy, dimly lit and badly cleaned walls, she repeated the plan in her mind – if the door was closed, she would knock and think of something that would grant her access, and then plunge the blade into the throat of whoever was unfortunate enough to answer. If the door was open, then she would sneak in – and the end result would be the same; blood dripping from her blade, and Frost's lifeless corpse at her feet.

As she reached three steps' distance, she noticed that the door was slightly ajar, with the dimmest of light shining through the crack. She smiled to herself – that would make things easier. Holding the knife up so the blade lent itself to a thrust rather than a downward stab, she reached out her left hand, feathered her fingers on the cold plastic of the door and gently pushed it open. Her heart beat thundered in her ears as the crack grew wider, and she silently thanked the idea to take two pills before arriving in the perpetually dark streets of the Lower City, otherwise the buzzing in her chest would have been unstoppable.

Satisfied that she would not make a sound, she carefully crept through the doorway with a resolute expression on her face. The room was dim – the lamp in its mandatory placement near the sofa seemed to be fixed at half-illumination – therefore her eyes were unable to pick out consistent details of the room, but what she  _could_  see were the shattered remnants of a Uni-Com station strewn all over the floor…

…and the back of a brown haired man sat on the couch, reading something on a data tablet. She couldn't make out his face, but the rush of adrenaline in her body and the silent hitch of her breath told her everything she needed to know.

Wearing a victorious smirk, she carefully navigated her way through the minefield of glass and plastic shards between her and her prey, careful to not make a single sound. A crack, a crunch, even an accidental breath could give her away – silence was her ally, but a fickle maiden.

She successfully closed to within two feet of him…and like a cobra, she struck.

The man jerked in shock as she wrapped her hand around his mouth and placed the blade at his throat, hard enough to make a point but soft enough to not draw blood. First…she wanted something from him.

"Are you ready to die, Frost?" she whispered into his ear.

And then she heard a sound behind her, one that froze her body and her heartbeat, instantaneously killed the adrenaline fuelled victory inside her, and replaced it with shame and self-hatred – the  _bzzt_  of a stun pistol's activation…and  _his_  voice.

"Are  _you?"_

Her body remained still; even as she screwed her eyes shut in dark realisation and uttered a decidedly not-silent curse in anger. Sure, she had her knife around  _someone's_  throat, but it wasn't Frost. No, he was stood behind her, obviously with a pistol trained on her body. Whether it was set to stun or kill, it didn't matter.

She was a victim of her own tunnel vision, the lack of perception and ignorance of any thoughts except relating to what lay before her. She saw who she thought was Frost, and as soon as that happened – nothing else mattered.

"Drop the knife and lay face down on the floor with your hands behind your head." she heard Frost order.

She said nothing, and considered her options. She  _could_  slice into this man's carotid artery, and watch as the crimson fluid sprayed the wall opposite him thereby permanently depriving Frost of an ally, and take a split-second's satisfaction in that before he shot her. But then…she thought of her sister. If she was dead, she would never find out what happened to her, why she disappeared off the face of the earth with no clues to speak of, and a less-than-illuminating investigation by Unity's police force.

She made her decision. Slowly, she removed the blade from the man's neck and let it fall onto the couch, and then methodically did as she was told; mentally cursing every second that she had to obey. Elsa the Valkyrie, reduced from predator to prey in seconds and under  _his_  mercy, her face against  _his_ floor.

"That's the last time I play decoy for you, Frost." she heard the other man grumpily snap amidst the sound of his rise from the couch.

"But you did it so well! You're, like, an amazing actor. Four stars; would see again." Frost chuckled theatrically.

"My performance was five star-worthy,  _bitch_. Anyway, shoot her and let's go." the man scoffed dismissively.

"Nah, you go on ahead. I'll catch up."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's cool. Meet you at the rendezvous." Frost assuaged the other man's concern.

There was a brief pause where, though her vision was completely encompassed by blurry white plastic, she could tell that the second man was considering Frost's order. Eventually she heard footsteps recede from the sofa along with the sound of fabric on plastic, and a few seconds later the click of the front door.

"So you're the famous Snow Queen? I thought you'd be sharper. First rule of breaking into someone else's place: always check your six." Frost said tauntingly.

"Let me get up and I'll show you how sharp I can be." she snarled.

"Ohoho, she's got a sense of humour! And there was me thinking you'd be boring. Sit up with your back against the sofa and your hands under that rather nice butt of yours." he chuckled before the order came through. "Or I can just shoot you. Your call. Try anything smart, though, and I will squeeze the trigger."

Begrudgingly, she obeyed. Unlacing her hands to push up from the floor, she manoeuvred into a seated position and rested her hands under her posterior, and as her eyes flicked with a none-too-veiled fire, she truly caught sight of him.

With chocolate brown hair that was evidently dyed, given how his white roots were starting to peek through, and piercing cobalt eyes framed by a pale, chiselled face illuminated by the dim glow of the free-standing lamp on the other side of the sofa, Frost stood before her with both hands laced around a pistol, the weapon as still as can be as the barrel was pointed squarely at her chest. In an incredibly fleeting thought, she actually found him to be quite attractive.

What did catch her eye, though, was the blue line on the barrel of the pistol indicating the stun setting. She expected it to be red and therefore lethal, and the idea that Frost seemingly had no intention of killing her from the start was something alien to her perceptions of him. He must have noticed the mildly sulky expression ripping up her features, as a pitying cluck rang out from his tongue as he gazed with a mask that screamed  _better-luck-next-time._

"D'aww," he cooed as he squatted down in front of her a few feet away, "don't look so glum! It was a good try. 'A' for effort. We kinda knew you were coming, though."

A surge of anger shot through her, and she briefly entertained the notion of grasping for a nearby shard of glass and thrusting it into his leg. Maybe she would hit his femoral artery – he would bleed out in less than a minute.

"How?" she muttered.

"Maybe we have eyes and ears everywhere…but let's face it; the only one stupid enough to walk through the Lower City in fancy Upper clothing is  _you_ , dear."

She uttered yet another curse under her breath – Frost was right. In her tunnel vision and haste to reach him, she forgot to wear clothing that would allow her to blend in – therefore, she stuck out like a sore thumb. She watched as he lowered himself into a cross-legged position, the pistol not once moving from her. He rested his chin in the crook of his hands, watching her with half-amused, half-searching eyes. She  _hated_ it.

"Aren't we a funny pair." he mused.

"And just what do you mean by that?" she spat.

"Frost and Snow Queen. The Ghost and the Valkyrie. The man who runs, and the woman who chases him." he said cryptically. "Why  _are_  you chasing me, again? I forgot."

"You and your friends murdered my parents." she snarled loudly, trying desperately to restrain herself from shouting and therefore betraying her relatively calm exterior to her turbulent emotional state.

"Ah," he chirped, clicking his fingers as though recalling something, "that was it. I remember now. Kinda slipped my mind, what with it being the…thirty-fourth…maybe fifth time we've been accused of that? I think we were blamed for a Reaper attack once, I'm not sure. Anyway, it doesn't matter. So is that why you became a Valkyrie, to hunt me down?"

"Yes," she said, lifting her chin, "so I had the means and the skills to find, fight, and kill you."

"Not working out so well for you, is it?" he teased.

"Fuck you."

He gasped and placed a mocking hand over his heart. "Ooh, language, milady! You kiss your C.O. with that mouth?"

Her cerulean gaze firmly locked into his cobalt blues, she watched as his brow furrowed slightly, as though a past memory was building in his mind's eye. Then, with another click of his fingers, the wholly irritating smirk lit up his face like the turrets of the  _Valhalla._

"I remember you! I bumped into you at the museum. Didn't really get to see your face but I had a…feeling…it was you. In my chest. Do you get that?"

The platinum blonde pursed her lips in the form of an answer.

"Course not. What was I thinking? You're a Valkyrie. You don't feel, 'cause your heart is solid ice. Especially  _you_. Sparky, Sneak, Grasshead, Spooky? Those are the names of just four abnormals you've captured and sent to the Inquisitors just so you can find me. You don't care about them, how they died under interrogation, do you? All you want is to kill me, and it doesn't matter how many of my kind fall before you."

"You know  _nothing_  about me, Frost." she hissed.

"You know what? You're absolutely right. Let's start this thing over: Hi, my name is Frost and I like warm hugs! I enjoy romantic walks on the beach, watching a game of hoverball on Saturdays, pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. What about you, what's your name?"

"My initials are G, F and Y." she answered emotionlessly.

"Let me guess, Go Fuck Yourself?" he smirked.

"Very astute. You're more intelligent than I give you credit for." she gave him an equally sarcastic smirk. "But you're still weak, and that is why I will end you." she finished threateningly.

"Weak, huh? Why's that?" he asked nonchalantly.

"You could have killed Astrid any time you wanted, and you could have shot me as soon as I walked into this room. I must admit, I am curious as to why."

"You want to know why you and Astrid are still alive?" he asked, half a smile to go with that infuriatingly cocky expression. Slowly, she nodded.

"Well, two reasons, actually. One – let's say I did kill her…what would happen next? Someone would find her body maybe the next morning. So, the Unity cops would do what you probably did to find me. Of course I'd be long gone by that point, so they'd detain and interrogate anyone who was with me, talked to me, or even stood near me. Meaning Merida and Rapunzel, the bar man, the barflies, the sentinel guard who stopped me, the concierge downstairs who probably bowed to you…hell, even the nice old lady across the hall who says hello every morning."

"Anyone who so much as  _breathed_  the same air as me would be detained, interrogated and – in the case of your underlings – executed. Do you see? By killing Astrid, I would have killed at least a dozen other innocent people – and that would be murder. Actual murder, not this bullshit cockamamie thing you've got in your pretty little blonde head."

Had her now numb hands not been trapped firmly between her buttocks and the floor, she would have clenched her fists and taken a swing at him. He was just trying to get into her head, to sow the seeds of doubt in her mind and cause her to re-evaluate her views, and she knew it. She would  _not_  allow him to succeed.

"And the other reason?" she snarled through gritted teeth. His blue eyes wrinkled in amusement.

"Oh, that's easy. Ghost rule number six:  _'A Ghost kills only in self-defence under imminent threat of death'_. Killing Astrid would also be murder, so yeah. I'm not one for rules, but that's one I will  _never_  break. See, unlike you and your team, I actually have morals."

"If you say so." she muttered, glaring at him. Smiling slightly, he cocked his head to the side as he regarded her neutrally. It gave her the odd, creepy sensation of being appraised.

"You know, even though the lighting in here is shit and you're in the sofa's shadow…you're actually kinda hot. Wasn't expecting that."

She felt a surge of infuriation through her chest at his words, and a slight feeling of nausea. It was one thing for him to openly taunt her, but another to actually  _compliment_  her, whether it was sincere or not. She was about to issue another barb when he turned his head to the side as though hearing a voice audible only to him, and muttered a  _"yeah okay, I'm coming"._

"Right," he announced breezily and a little loudly, "well, our little chat has been fun. Pro tip, though – first dates are usually better over dinner. I'd love to stay and get to know you a little more, but I've got places to be. I'd tell you not to follow me, but we both know as soon as I turn my back you'll try and stab me in the ass or something, so…"

She shifted her weight slightly onto her right buttock. If she could only reach the shard of glass to her left, she could grasp it and thrust it into that smirking mouth of his, and the numbness resulting from several minutes of sitting on her hands would dull the pain of the glass cutting into her palms. She would have to be fast.

"Yeah. Sleep tight, Snow Queen. Hope you have nice happy dreams of my charming self." he chuckled, as he touched his forehead with two fingers and gave her a sarcastic salute.

The flash of blue that lit up the barrel of his pistol was the last thing she saw before all went dark.

Not fast enough.


	18. Secret Diary of a Scientist

" _Beautiful, isn't it?" she heard Kristoff's voice softly radiate through the air._

_Calm seas, a splash of amber with a dash of crimson across the sky, painted by a celestial orb ninety million miles away afforded a beauty unlike any other in Anna's mind, and a perfect place to think and reminisce as evening gave way to night. It was a weird thing with the human mind, if a sound is regular yet unobtrusive to the ears and there is something to occupy the eyes, then the body will render itself inert while the mind ticks over and the subconscious comes out to play. At least, that was what it was like for her. After a few hours of history with Kozmotis, Anna found her attention dwindling as her mind slowly travelled back to the mainland, so the first thing she did was find Jack and ask him where the best place was to sit, think, and be alone._

_His answer happened to be on the Star's flight deck, with her legs dangling off the asphalt edge and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders – more for the tactile comfort and security than to stave off the cold._

_She nodded in appreciation of the watercolour sky before her. "Totally. I see why Jack likes it so much."_

" _Not just him, we all come out here to think every now and then. Can…I sit?" he asked politely._

_Anna craned her head up to her right and flashed him a warm, welcoming smile as she patted the space beside her. She watched as the burly man awkwardly descended to his feet and mimicked her position, and took the chance to shuffle up against him and rest her head upon his left shoulder – something he welcomed as he delicately wrapped an arm around hers. She had grown closer to him as the weeks went by, even going as far as to tentatively suggest a date sometime._

_Of course, whether there was anything on the ship that lent itself to a date environment remained to be seen, but she was happy with that._

" _How are you doing?" he asked tentatively, and she could almost_ hear  _the concerned frown in his voice. It occurred to her that the mountain of a man – at least, compared to the slender Jack and Hiccup, and the lanky Kozmotis – was a lot more sensitive than she originally thought, and it elicited a glimmer of appreciative warmth in her heart that softened the small pocket of emptiness that resided there ever since she arrived. The hole you feel when something – or someone – is missing._

" _It was always my sister's thing, you know. Learning and stuff. Don't get me wrong, I love a good history or science lesson – especially science – but…Elsa really loved to learn new things. Every time I finished one of Kozmotis' classes, I always thought 'God, Elsa would have been all over this. She'd be asking questions, asking for extra homework, reading up on extra material…she'd be in her element'. I just can't help but think how much she would have given to be here, on the Star, learning the real truth of the world. Then again…I haven't seen her for three years, so what the hell do I know." she finished with a crack born of cynicism and hurt._

" _I'm sorry for your loss." Kristoff whispered solemnly._

" _Huh? Oh! No, no no no," she babbled, "no, she's not dead. At least, I don't think so."_

" _What happened?"_

" _I don't know. I remember giving her this epic,_ epic  _hug to say congratulations for graduating high school before saying goodnight. I remember how she hugged me back, and I can still feel the kiss on my cheek as she thanked me, and I remember falling asleep thinking the next day was going to be awesome…but when I woke up, everything had changed."_

_She lifted her head from Kristoff's shoulders, and began to almost mournfully fidget with her fingers to try and hold back the tears that were beginning to form in her eyelids as she tried to lose herself in the amber sky._

" _She hid in her bedroom and locked her door, and no matter how hard or how often I knocked, or how much I asked, begged, pleaded, yelled at her to open up, she wouldn't. She'd either shout at me to go away, or wouldn't say a word. It was like she was a completely different person. We were so close, we'd do everything together and it was like none of it mattered any more, like someone had reached in and ripped my sister from my life, and no-one would tell me why. I asked my parents, and they wouldn't tell me…said she was ill and it was contagious – which was bullshit, 'cause they're scientists and they_ know  _Unity has a cure for pretty much every disease known to man. I kept asking them, I kept shouting at them, screaming for them to tell me why, why my sister suddenly shut me out…and I got nothing. I tried_ everything _. I once tried to barge my way in when Kai brought her evening meal to her door, but she just pushed the door against me and knocked me on my ass…it hurt me so much, and I just…after months and months of trying and failing, something in me just…gave up. I poured so much energy and hope into it, and I just ran dry. So one day I walked by her door, and said 'goodbye, Elsa'. Not 'sis' or 'sister', but 'Elsa'. And I never touched that door again. Just walked on by. Forgot she ever existed, and stopped caring…at least I thought I did._

" _Listening to those classes…I guess I realised how much I miss her. She's still a part of me, even if she_ is _an antisocial hermit. I just…I wonder how she's doing, you know? Losing our parents, me disappearing – I know, you did it to protect me and for that I will always be grateful…I was all she had left, and now_ I'm _gone."_

_She let the tears fall, and felt their weight leave her cheeks and splash upon her hands._

" _In one night, something happened to her, and she disappeared from my life. In one night, something happened to me_  and  _our parents, and now we're_ all _gone from_ her  _life. I just miss her, and I hope she's found a way to cope without me...because something tells me that my old life is over, and I won't ever be able to go back to it." she said in a voice that cracked more and more with every word she uttered._

" _What do you think happened?" Kristoff asked softly._

" _I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that Larsen guy has something to do with it. I saw him talking to my parents the day she 'disappeared'."_

* * *

 

_Location: Science District, Sanctuary  
Date: September 7_ _th_ _, 2073_  
_Time: 13:26_

 

The door to Laboratory A opened whether he wished it or not, and Anna's bright face poked through wearing a warm and cheeky smile that  _really should_  belong to someone else.

"Hey, Koz! Whatcha doing?" she chirped.

Peace and quiet, that's all he wanted.

An oasis of serenity in a sea of activity, where he could relax on a reclining, comfortable office chair he appropriated from one of the doctor's rooms three corridors over, with his feet up over a small desk upon which countless sheets of paper were stacked, all with valuable information of historical significance infusing the sentences printed upon them. He could sit back and learn everything there was about the underground complex, along with the era in which it was built – over its reign Unity had slowly eradicated anything that came before it, thus proving false the notion that you can't change history. You can, you just need to be in power and have the blind support of the public. He could fill in the blanks in his knowledge, add to his historical curriculum for his students and generally revel in the wealth of information.

But no. He never appreciated anyone being in his space – which sometimes extended to an entire room – save for Hiro and Jack…at least, until he heard about his illicit and sanctioned activity two days ago, and you can count on Anna to flagrantly invade said space with all the cheerfulness she can muster.

"Being bothered. What do you want?" he sighed as the hand that held a copy of the C-112 serum's description flopped to his legs in exasperation. Anna's smirk widened as she sidled into the room, wearing khaki green pants with a white, figure-hugging T-shirt.

"Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see my favourite teacher, that's all." she sang sweetly, lacing her hands behind her back and slightly swaying on her feet, whilst giving him a look of shy innocence.

"Congratulations. You saw me. Now go away." he snapped grumpily, returning his attention to the paper.

"Aww," she clucked as she stepped forward, "don't be like that. I just thought you could use some company."

"I really don't." he answered.

"I think you do. Stuck in this boring laboratory, you must be all alone and want someone to talk to!" she declared.

"Seriously, can't you go bother someone else? Why don't you go entertain the children, or something like that?" he growled low, irritated by losing track of the same damn sentence for the fourth time. He liked Anna – or to be more accurate, tolerated – but he  _really_  wanted to read that document.

"Nope," she answered, popping the 'p', "they're having lunch, and after that they're going above ground again with their parents. I am officially child-free. Oh, it was so good to see their faces when they saw grass for the first time. You know some of them haven't actually seen land before, 'cause they were born on the  _Star?_ God, it was such a privilege to see them play on land. Beautiful."

"I am well aware of that fact, yes. What about Neve, can't you assist her with co-ordinating the move?" he answered, his impatience growing.

"Pfft, she's got that covered. You're forgetting she's training that new protégé of hers, Fiona." she said as she leaned her posterior against one of the laboratory desks directly across from him. He narrowed his eyes; he had a sneaking suspicion there was more to Anna's visit than simple curiosity.

"Yes, the feisty woman."

" _Exactly_. The sheer amount of organisation those two awesome ladies have to do is nuts, I'd only screw things up. I mean, just how do you allocate beds, manage food crates, work out which thing goes in which district…basically co-ordinate fifteen hundred people and  _still_  look that good? If I tried helping, I'd just get shouted at."

"Wouldn't that be a shame…" he sarcastically drawled, the tone of which rolled off Anna's back. He sighed and dropped the paper onto his legs, "Surely Kristoff or Haddock need help? I'm certain you'd be more useful there than here, being annoying."

"Oh sure," she responded with her own wittiness, "I'll go help my fiancée who can carry things that weigh more than me with one finger. I may be a stubborn, tough woman, but even I know I can't lift a huge crate full of food. I'd break something…"

"…at least you'd be in the infirmary and not here…" he muttered under his breath.

"…and as for Hiccup, his techno-know-how is way above mine, plus he's got his Geek Squad and Hiro helping him…or he's helping Hiro, depending on who you ask." she finished, either unaware of or completely ignoring the tall Ghost's acidic remark. Knowing Anna's perceptiveness, he assumed it to be the latter.

"How is he?" Kozmotis asked, feeling a somewhat uncharacteristic concern flicker in his chest.

"Hiccup? He's okay. He's taken that whole deafness thing in his stride. Seriously, first thing he did when he got back – after a rather epic hug from yours truly – was to go and improvise a pair of hearing aids out of his earpieces. Just like that. Partially deaf for a few hours, and then business as usual like nothing ever happened. Gotta admit, I wish I had his ability to adapt…though he still doesn't like dark rooms. Not surprised though, after how he described those freaks." she explained in a rambling way. Kozmotis was genuinely curious as to his team-mate's well-being; a few hours after reaching the surface on that fateful night, Hiccup mounted Toothless and flew back to the  _Star_ while Kozmotis chose to stay behind – therefore he was unaware of anything the rider had done when he returned to the ship.

"Good." he answered simply.

"Yep! So I'm free for the next few hours, and I'm here to bother you. Am I succeeding?"

"Clearly." he muttered, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Great! It's settled, then. I'll hang out with you for the next few hours!"

"Yay…" he groaned with a decided lack of enthusiasm, as though he had just been told he would be watching the children for a week. Anna tittered adorably as she pushed herself off the laboratory desk, dragged a nearby wooden stool over to the other side of Kozmotis' table, plonked herself down upon it, and gave him a narrow-eyed, mock-studious gaze.

"You know," she announced like a psychiatrist would, "you might act like this tall, dark, moody guy, but underneath all the snark, intense stares and grumpiness, I  _know_ you're a huggable and lovable teddy bear that just wants a cuddle."

He simply glared at her from under his black eyebrows. "You knew you could easily help everyone else, you just came to bug me, didn't you?"

She bit her bottom lip to stymie a cheeky smirk, and teasingly said, "Guilty."

"Ugh,  _fine._  If you're going to stay here, make yourself useful and read something, then." he threw a hand up in the air to accompany the rather exaggerated roll of his eyes.

The bright strawberry blonde flashed him a blinding beam, gently bouncing on her stool as her lithe fingers reached over to a crimson hardback diary. "Oh, I'll read. I'll read the hell out of all this. I'll read this stuff so hard it won't know what week it is-"

"Preferably without talking." Kozmotis interrupted as he leaned back and adjusted his position for greater comfort.

"…sorry." she chuckled as she flicked through the pages, settling on one roughly in the middle. The black-haired, mildly irritated Ghost indiscernibly shook his head in silent exasperation as he returned his gaze to the C-112 serum document in his hands, and had just reached the sentence he was so rudely interrupted from reading, when the feminine voice of his comrade chirped out loud once more like a suspiciously unstoppable font of chatting.

"Who's Taylor Swift?" Anna asked, confused.

"Do I look like I care?"

"Listen to this…" she ignored him, and began to read an entry from the page she had chosen at random.

* * *

 

_January 16_ _th_ _, 2015_

_Dear Diary (that sounds SO cliché),_

_Today has been great. Well, one part of it, anyway._

_I finally got my video message from home, after the military held onto it for, like, months. It was my daughter, Mia. She's growing up so fast! Feels like yesterday that I gave her the biggest hug ever and told her I'd be back soon before the Army flew us all over to this place. I know it wasn't yesterday, I know it was two years ago…but still! She had her twelfth birthday, and it was apparently awesome. Cody, her boyfriend (I thought Mark was supposed to be vetting her potential boyfriends?! We need to have a serious talk when I get back) bought her the latest Taylor Swift album, and apparently it's "like, the best thing ever". I thought I raised her on a steady diet of Mozart and Tchaikovsky? Anyway, she just looked so happy, the way she talked about her birthday, how life has been since I left…_

… _I miss her so much. I miss her gorgeous red hair, that beautiful smile, how she snorts when she giggles. I miss reading with her, helping her with her biology homework. To think that the message was six months old…and when she told me she loved me, that she missed me and hoped I came home soon…_

_It broke my heart. I wish that I could be back home with her, to snuggle up with her and Mark to watch crappy Syfy movies as a family._

_Oh well, I guess I'll have to wait a little longer. Experiment #10 reacted badly to the serum; his skin began to blister and boil as his cells burned – literally – from the inside. His screaming was awful, especially when it became a liquidy gurgling before he died (great, now I have that to look forward to in my nightmares). We don't know what it is, but as soon as the virus in the C-112 serum bonds with the DNA a couple of days after injection, it all goes kaput._

_Hopefully we'll be able to work out what's going wrong soon, 'cause I just want to give the military their precious super-soldiers so I can go home and hug my family._

_Maybe next time._

_Until tomorrow, o faithful diary!_

_Dr. Janet Summersby (should I actually sign it like this? I have no idea.)_

* * *

 

"Wait. Run that by me again." Kozmotis said quickly as he jerked upright in his chair with such vigour that the plastic under the comfy leather cushion clicked loudly against the pneumatic cylinder supporting it, a frown of growing understanding upon his grey-skinned, angular countenance.

"…bought her the latest Taylor Swift…"

"No, you spoon. The part about the serum." he snapped with urgency, tossing his sheet of paper onto the table.

"…as soon as the virus in the C-112…" Anna repeated slowly, her brow furrowing.

Kozmotis wiped a hand down his face in dawning comprehension, pulling his lower eyelids slightly downwards with the firmness of the movement. Noticing Anna's cocked eyebrow of a request for an explanation, in one fluid movement he quickly slid his feet from the table and turned to rest his elbows upon it, one hand resting upon the table while the other supported his chin as he gazed in thought at a fixed point somewhere in the opposite wall.

"What if I was wrong? I always thought that the Toxin was bacterial in nature, with how it invades and changes the body at the cellular level…but what if it was  _viral?_ " he mused out loud, slightly muffled by his hand.

Anna simply cocked her head with a deepening frown adorning her young features. "I thought you knew that?" she asked, mild surprise infusing her voice.

The slender male blinked. "What?"

"Well, when you told me it was biological in nature…you know…after I punched you, I got to thinking. If the person is a match for integration, then the Toxin is supposed to re-engineer the body, so that means it has to work from the ground up – it has to integrate itself with the host's DNA before it makes any changes, right? That's exactly how viruses work; they attach themselves to the host's cells and replace the genetic material with whatever it's carrying. The infected cell then makes more of the virus before it dies, spreading around the rest of the body. Of course, it doesn't answer why we don't die, considering our cells are being killed off one by one…seriously, I thought you knew all of this?" she explained, her eyes narrowing as though she couldn't decide if he was playing a practical joke or really was having a belated epiphany.

"How is it that  _you_  do?" he frowned.

Anna's expression became one of casual nonchalance as she shrugged. "I come from a family of scientists, remember? I kinda grew up around this stuff. It's called gene therapy; Unity foetal scanning facilities do it all the time when they reconstruct chromosomes and DNA sequences, so kids aren't born with or develop disabilities later in life."

Despite being a cynical and dark-hearted man, Kozmotis shuddered at the thought of someone delving into and playing around with the cells of a foetus before they were even born. It seemed wrong to him, the idea of altering a child's destiny before they even took their first breath.

"Read more." he urged. Anna cleared her throat as she returned her gaze to the diary in her hands, and skipped forward a few pages before settling on something that, judging by the  _"aha…"_  that escaped her lips, she found interesting.

* * *

 

_March 5_ _th_ _, 2016_

_Dear Diary,_

_Pretty sure the world is going to blow up. We keep hearing about how Russia seems to like sending their warships and bombers on little "training exercises" through British territorial waters. The Brit Prime Minister is starting to talk about "emphatically dissuading further infringements of our sovereign territory" which, in layman's terms, means "get the hell out of our seas or we're going to shoot at you", and the White House is pretty much saying the same. Brian reckons that a war will start within a year, Elias (the pretentious, stuck-up prick) thinks sometime in 2018 or so. Me? I hope nothing happens. War is the last thing anyone needs right now, especially me – it means that the military will start pressuring us even more to deliver, and it'll be harder to get my video messages. It'll also mean I won't get to see Mia and Mark any time soon._

_Not to mention how creepy this Unity party sounds, this group of technology-obsessed weirdos that say war is coming, and only they can bring peace to the U.S. Yeah, good luck getting past the Republicans and Democrats, you crazy people. You'll never get into power._

_You know what, let's talk about things that DID happen rather than things that MIGHT happen._

_Experiment #24 was a success…well, for all of about ten seconds. We know that the serum changes the volunteers in different ways, so it's a surprise every time the effects become apparent. We injected 24 with the serum four days ago, and when the DNA alterations were complete three days after that…it was actually glorious. He was stable, lucid, even cracked a joke that the calcified bone spines on his back and arms made him look like a walking hedgehog. Elias, Brian and I…we thought we'd done it._

_We were wrong._

_24 was halfway through laughing at his own joke when he doubled over in pain, screaming that it felt like his brain was on fire. Blood started to pour from where the spikes grew through his skin, and as the seconds went by he started to behave more and more inhumanly. Grunting, growling, spitting, and tossing over the gurney like it was nothing. The scariest moment was when he saw us through the reinforced glass of the observation room, and charged right at us. One of his spikes even caused a crack. Elias, cold bastard that he is, didn't even blink when he hit the emergency button and flooded the room with halon gas. 24 suffocated within seconds._

_He was a good guy. Polite, great sense of humour._

_It's strange, though. I feel a small amount of apathy in my chest as I write this. I'm probably just tired._

_I suppose I'll sign off on this: I hope Mia's okay. Mark said in his message that he caught her stealing from his wallet, and when he told her off she screamed at him. She's only thirteen…_

_Anyway, until next time._

_Dr Janet Summersby_

* * *

 

"Bastards…" Anna muttered under her breath, her expression contorted with disgust as she closed her eyes. Watching her as she attempted to come to terms with what was in the entry, Kozmotis could only guess that she was trying not to visualise the breakdown and death of 24.

"Indeed." he murmured in grim agreement.

"These people…they actually  _volunteered_  for these experiments? Fuck…" she hissed, shaking her head in disbelief. Kozmotis cocked a split second eyebrow as his face adorned itself with an expression of resignation, and sighed, "Seems that way, but, along with your brief explanation of how the Toxin functions, it does lend itself to a theory I have had for a day or two."

"What theory is that?" Anna asked, opening her eyes with a look that that screamed  _'do I really want to know?'_  to the slender Ghost.

"That the C-112 serum is the Toxin – or at least, the early unstable form of it. My theory is that it was created and cultivated in the facility above ground in addition to other tests, like the one that created Toothless, and transported to down here, where the human experiments were conducted."

"But that would mean…" Anna began with wide, disbelieving yet horrified eyes and parted lips, her voice trailing off to nothing.

"Yes. It would mean that the four creatures that Haddock and I killed are our progenitors. Our metaphorical great grandparents, if you want to criminally oversimplify it. In any case, it puts the spread of the Toxin into a new perspective – someone  _intended_  to create us, but not in the way it happened. Our abnormalities are nothing but a happy  _accident."_ Kozmotis explained, with every single word weighed down with purpose and historical significance.

It all made sense to him – he never knew what the facility nor the Science District was for until today, but assumed that it was connected to the birth of the abnormal kind insofar that powers do not sprout out of nowhere. Knowing the purpose of the five experiments, along with those that came before them cast a new light on the history of his kind that was already written in blood.

They were, and  _weren't_ , meant to be.

Anna blinked vacantly at him. He knew she was a lot more intelligent than he originally thought, so her relative silence and lack of comprehension was simply a case of coming to terms with knowing of their true origins. She swallowed, and then finally croaked with an arid mouth, "Holy crap…everything that's happened to us…that still happens…should never have taken place?"

Then something in her seemed to click, and the tall Ghost theorised that it was the warrior within her that briefly took over while the sweet, innocent Anna Snowfield came to terms with the revelation that her life could have been  _so_  much different. They might never have met. She could still have her sister. He would never have had to kill his father in self-defence. She blinked a few more times, before sucking in a breath through her nose to galvanise herself, and frowned darkly as she returned her attention to the diary.

"Well, I guess whichever military it was that commissioned these experiments got what they wanted." she muttered cynically.

"They got their Ghost Company." Kozmotis mused quietly. Anna slowly nodded in agreement as she flicked through a few more pages, before settling on one and beginning to read. Kozmotis watched her as she brought the words to life, wondering if it was morbid curiosity or the pursuit of a distraction that prompted her continuation.

* * *

 

_November 21_ _st_ _, 2019_

_Today is…was our anniversary, and it's been a year since Mark divorced me. I suppose I can't blame him. It's not like I've ever been there. It's not like we've been allowed to leave this place for fear of one of us blabbing. A year on, and I barely even hurt. I just don't feel it._

_I remember reading his message about how Mia was getting into fights at school, how she was caught dealing drugs outside the premises, and when one of the other students reported her, how she beat him black and blue. I remember listening to Mark explain how Mia's behaviour had been going downhill, that she's angry and she hurts and she doesn't understand why Mama can't come home yet…so she's lashing out at the world._

_I also remember how, rather than feel guilty and depressed about my helplessness as I listened to him speak, my thoughts were more about Experiment #39 and whether we could finally succeed._

_We didn't. 39 started screaming that there were voices in his head, telling him that the arcs of electricity shooting from his fingertips were God's wrath designed for those he deemed unworthy. Elias hit the halon gas button before he could overload and explode. 39 died. We moved on._

_I should feel bad about this…but between what's going on, and the fact that two years into the war and Chicago and Florida are gone…not to mention London, Kiev and Pyongyang. Strange how it's a third world war and it still comes down to the West versus the East. There is no West or East; there's just a huge sphere floating in the vastness of space._

_And here we are, in a secret NATO underground facility built for the important figures, families and members of staff that we use barely a tenth of, sitting pretty and trying to change war. I don't think even Unity knows about us down here, though I'm pretty sure they know about the facility. It's weird. Three years ago they were nothing but a fanatical fringe party dedicated to the betterment of humanity through militarisation and technological advancement, and now they have the retired General Weselton as a contender for the White House after the President was recently impeached._

_It doesn't really matter anymore, I guess. Perfecting this serum is all I have left._

_Janet_

* * *

 

"She sounds so…cold." Anna observed numbly. "It's like as the years went on and the volunteers kept coming, she stopped caring."

Kozmotis merely shrugged as he stared vacantly at the table in deep thought. He expected that sort of behaviour from the scientists; anyone with a degree of moral fibre would balk at the idea of human experimentation, but those who were either devoted to a cause or were able to compartmentalise the conscience in their hearts would be able to function in that field. Being someone that saw things in a very black-and-white way –  _you are on one side, I am on the other, there is no grey area in between_ – he found it difficult to imagine that this Dr Summersby actually had a family and people that loved her, while she was assisting with or conducting experiment after experiment that seemed to have a mortality rate rivalling that of a deadly virus. He always thought of himself as the dark, dangerous side of the Ghosts, the person who was ready, willing and able to get his hands dirty and kill anyone who threatened them without mercy or regret…but hearing Anna read from the journal of this woman, he felt like a saint in comparison.

Anna's voice stirred him from his thoughts, and he felt a pang of pity when he noticed how her tone had changed from cheeky and bright when she entered the room, to solemn and grim after three entries of horror.

"Where did they get these volunteers?" she mused faintly. Kozmotis quirked his lips to the left as he scratched the side of his head, and as he collected the words that would form his answer he returned his feet to the corner of the table, relaxed back into the chair and laced his fingers together.

"Prisoners, most likely. People that were on Death Row. I can imagine that they jumped at the chance if someone visited their cells and offered them a choice – languish in prison with a fixed date of expiration, or take part in this scientific experiment with the reward of freedom if it is successful." he theorised.

"And even if it was successful, they'd still hit the halon gas button because let's face it, who wants a death-row criminal with superpowers…" Anna continued, following his cynical train of thought.

"Indeed. It's actually quite clever if you think about it." he said, and closed his eyes as he chuckled quietly when Anna retorted with a mild snap, "I'd rather not…and you know what? I never liked horror books, so I'm just going to skip to the end." she finished in a flat announcement.

* * *

 

_April 7_ _th_ _, 2020_

_We did it._

_The C-112 serum successfully integrated itself with five volunteers: four males and one female. They are physically stable, and the changes have taken effect – if a little drastically – therefore they are currently heavily sedated in the hibernation chambers._

_Subject 50 is observed to possess a single long, bony claw that extends through each hand, sharpened teeth and above-average strength._  
Subject 51 is observed to possess four external bone growths that act as "legs" in addition to sharp, slashing weapons.  
Subject 52 has undergone the starkest change, having gained three feet in height and a foot and a half in width and obscenely superhuman muscle mass. His bones have "diffused" through his skin to form armour plating over his body.  
Subject 53 has displayed the ability to traverse walls and ceilings, in addition to launching a type of acid as a projectile from his mouth; therefore a restrictive mask is to be used at all times to prevent accidental discharge.  
Subject 54's change is less apparent but is nonetheless equally dangerous; her throat, lungs and vocal cords have been changed in such a way to allow the use of a "sonic scream", a form of acoustic assault that can cause deafness, haemorrhaging and death.

_All five subjects also display similar levels of hyper-aggression and must therefore be sedated at all times._

_The military brass state they will be visiting in three days' time to see the results for themselves, but I am confident that they will be pleased. I am also confident that, with further refinement of the serum, the changes will no longer be as drastic. Perhaps a gaseous form?_

_However, Brian has reported Subject 50's hibernation chamber to be "on the fritz" as he so eloquently put, but maintains that it will not cause a premature awakening of 50._

_Maybe this serum will see the end of the war, and I can salvage what's left of my life._

_Janet_

* * *

 

Anna's eyes darted left and right as she flicked through the remainder of the diary's pages. Kozmotis let out a deep sigh as he played with his thumbs in thought, waiting for her to come to the same conclusion he did.

"That was the last entry." she said slowly. Kozmotis nodded in acknowledgement – 50 must have broken out soon after, and killed her along with Brian and Elias. He wondered which of the skeletons belonged to her – the one with the severed spine, maybe.

His thoughts continued well along their grim path – not long after the final, fateful entry, the Russians had obliterated the topside facility with a missile strike. With no country claiming ownership and thereby retaliating, the facility and the underground complex fell into secrecy and silence, with only rumours and tall tales to continue its existence. He reckoned that the two of them were the first people to know of Dr Summersby's fate.

She deserved it, he thought, as well as everything else that befell her. In his mind everything could be traced back to her and her team – the birth of the abnormals, the distrust, discrimination and hate, the imprisonment, the need to run and hide…

…the Ghosts, the Valkyries…everything that transpired blew up from that single point in time where someone took the limitless possibilities of science and twisted them into a dark shadow of themselves.  _She did what she set out to do,_  he thought bitterly.  _She changed the world._

And not for the better.

Anna slapped the diary shut with a resounding clap that jarred the lanky Ghost from his thoughts, and tossed it with a little more strength than was needed onto the table – where it skidded across the strewn papers, slid past his legs and off the edge. Silence reigned in the white-tiled laboratory following the oddly loud clatter of red hardback on floor, and in a moment of characteristic observation Kozmotis noticed how the temperature of the room had risen by a few degrees.

He flicked his golden eyes over to his female compatriot. With her arms wrapped protectively under her ribs, wearing an expression that danced between compartmentalised blankness and thoughtful sadness as her aquamarine orbs fixed themselves onto an invisible point in the floor. In a strange way, it reminded him of the roles each Ghost played in the greater scheme of things – when in battle, each member functioned the same way with the same focus, fighting as one…but behind the scenes they were completely different. Kristoff was the leader, the strong yet sensitive one, with a heart of gold. Jack was the joker, the prankster, the one that endeavoured to brighten any room with his humour. Hiccup was the conscience, the moral compass of the team, reminding them that the line between good and evil can be very thin indeed. Kozmotis was the dark one, the outsider-yet-not, the anger and the rage that dwelled in the background…and Anna? She was the childlike wonder, the warmth and the mercy of the team, the reminder that even surrounded by war and death, they must never lose sight of the desire for happiness, love and freedom.

She had seen enough of this history, he decided, and that was the reason for his next words. "Family of scientists, right?" he said calmly. Jarred from her thoughts, Anna's eyes flicked up to his. She blinked once or twice, before offering an acknowledging and oddly grateful smile. "Yeah," she nodded, "my Mama and Papa were the top scientists in Unity, and my sister and I were supposed to follow in their footsteps. Why, have you forgotten the crap you gave me when you remembered my surname?"

Kozmotis snorted a single  _"ha"_ of laughter. "I remember, and you have proven your loyalty since then. I was actually thinking you could help me with another theory."

"Oh?" Anna frowned curiously. Kozmotis slid his feet from the desk and rose from his chair, the audible clicking of his knees and joints derived from dozens of battles and a simple case of being sat for too long rattling through the room. Straightening his black t-shirt and pants, he slowly paced back and forth as he collected his thoughts in preparation.

Even with his back turned, he could still hear the plastic creak and leathery crinkle of someone occupying his chair – evidently Anna grew tired of a hard wooden stool and decided to steal a seat on something vastly more comfortable.

"We both know that if muscles are not used for a long time, then they undergo atrophy, right?" he mused, "so if those creatures had been suspended in a sterile liquid for fifty or more years…"

"Their muscles would have shrunk to the point they'd be skin and bone, even  _if_ they received the necessary nutrients." Anna finished his sentence for him, correctly and astutely. With one arm curled around his chest supporting his other elbow, Kozmotis abruptly turned and pointed in her vague direction.

"Precisely. When Hiccup and I fought the creatures, they showed no signs of muscular or skin atrophy, even the freaky nimble bastards and  _especially_  the Incredible Kristoff."

"The Incredible what?" Anna frowned. The male Ghost waved dismissively, and muttered, "…inside joke, never mind."

He curled his fingers under his sharply boned chin as he continued to openly theorise. "What if, now we know that the C-112 serum is responsible for the physical changes, it's behind the lack of atrophy as well? And now we know that the serum  _is_ the Toxin, what does that mean for us?"

"Hypothetically it's possible." Anna said as she shrugged. "Maybe the serum regenerates or rejuvenates the cells in the body so it can cope. I mean, we've seen how it basically re-engineers us when we bloom – my body is practically immune to fire, Jack has an obscenely high tolerance for sub-zero temperatures...and I don't even want to  _know_  where your black sand comes from."

"My arse, usually." he deadpanned. Anna tittered nervously in response, wondering if he was telling the truth or not. "However, your explanation does answer why our cells do not die when the virus changes the DNA…and it does lend itself to another,  _stranger_  theory of mine." he finished in a voice that had an air of the fantastical, as though realistically what he had to say wasn't possible.

"What would that be?" she smirked, evidently amused. Kozmotis blinked, and inhaled a deep breath in preparation to say something that was either scientifically profound, or the most embarrassing, cringe-worthy joke in the universe.

"What if the serum extended the lifespans of those five creatures?"

Anna cocked an eyebrow, and looked at him as though he had spontaneously grown a second head along with an affable, gentle personality. "What." was her simple reply.

"Well, when Haddock left for the  _Star_ , I took the time to closely scrutinize the creatures. It was when I looked over the female one-"

"I bet you loved it." Anna snickered. "I remember Hiccup saying that she was naked."

"Shut up. Anyway, one of the things I noticed was that – aside from her translucent skin and how her nails and hair had grown to obscene lengths – she didn't look far removed from a twenty-something year old woman. Even if she was that age when they experimented upon her, after fifty years she should be elderly and as wrinkly as a dried prune. Not slender, healthy, and relatively young. Bearing in mind that my hypothesis has almost no evidence to support it, what if the serum extended their lifespans well beyond that of a normal human being? Well…before we killed them, of course."

Anna's face went slack as her jaw dropped in both lack of comprehension and surprise. He couldn't blame her evident scepticism – it was a hypothesis based on observation and imagination, not hard facts and evidence. Of course, that was the very definition of a hypothesis.

"Which could mean," she began quietly and slowly, "that if the serum is the Toxin…"

"The extended lifespan could apply to  _us_  as well." Kozmotis finished for her, letting the iron-like weight of his words rest firmly upon their shoulders.

Silence reigned once more in the room, a pregnant pause that held within it the fantastical and the sceptical, where the two Ghosts remained still and thought about precisely what, if his theory was actually fact, it could mean for them and their kind. It was the kind of quiet you hear in the seconds after receiving hugely important news, be it sad or happy, where the mind tries to come to terms with the realisation. Watching her reaction, or therein  _lack_  of one, Kozmotis noticed how her eyes glazed over and drifted to the nothingness at his right.

"H-how long?" she croaked, her gaze still blank and unmoving as she wrapped her arms around her chest, "how long do you think our lifespans will be?"

" _Could_  be, Anna. Remember, this is just a theory and  _nothing_  more." he reminded her while he laced his slender hands behind his back.

"I know, I know," she replied as she leaned forward and held up a placating hand, "but…how long?"

Kozmotis sighed as he shrugged unknowingly. "Well, this is a ball-park guess based on nothing but what I've seen and an idea pulled from my black-sand producing arse…triple, maybe quadruple the lifespan of your average human?"

Anna exhaled loudly as she flopped back into the chair, and cupped her mouth and nose with both hands. He watched as her eyes began to shimmer a little, and almost  _heard_  the cogs turning in her mind as she explored the possibilities – both good  _and_  bad. For him, the idea of a potentially long lifespan was neither here nor there. Something that had no bearing on his life or his attitude – but for Anna, the ramifications were deep and profound...and he knew it.

"I wouldn't dwell on it too much, Anna." he spoke loud enough to snap her attention back to him and out of the rabbit hole of possibilities.

She blinked as she slowly dropped her hands from her face. "What makes you say that?" she asked curiously.

"For one, it's just a theory. For another…do you really think any of us will live long enough to see our freedom, and the ripe old age of three hundred years old?" he explained, hoping the grimness in his tone would ground her.

"I know, I know," she muttered shyly, "but…it's something else to hope and fight for, isn't it? I could have a nice long life with Kristoff…perhaps a family…"

Her face lit up with dreamlike hope after she spoke, and a wide smile curled her lips as her hands played with one of her braids in a wistful manner. Kozmotis felt an alien and slightly uncomfortable glimmer of warmth in his heart – after so long with such a pessimistic, cynical outlook based on dark anger and violent purpose, something that he had relied on and later defined him…he had long forgotten what a flicker of hope felt like. His golden eyes drifted away from his female compatriot to his feet, internally debating whether or not to cultivate the alien sensation or quash it.

Sudden movement from the chair sharply drew his gaze back to the woman in front of him, who had since bolted to her feet with the same cheerful expression she wore when she entered what felt like hours ago.

"I'm gonna go tell Kristoff!" she announced happily, and marched around the table, past the newly incredulous Kozmotis, and practically skipped through the aisle that separated the six laboratory tables in the centre of the room. Shaking his head in exasperation, he was just about to bend down to pick up the diary when he noticed her pause in the middle of the aisle.

"Was there something else you wanted?" he frowned…but was decidedly  _not_  prepared for what happened next.

Turning on a dime, Anna surged towards him, and a loud grunt escaped his throat as she wrapped her arms around his midsection. Being a head and a half taller than the strawberry blonde, Kozmotis was practically tackled over by the force of the hug and found it a little difficult to breathe with how tight her embrace was. He felt a little freaked out by how sudden the gesture was, and the fact that as a person who valued his room-sized personal space, he was there being  _hugged_. Not to mention the lack of knowledge of what to do in that situation.

So, in a brief moment of clarity surrounded by mental alarm bells and ship-level volume fog horns, he gingerly rested his left arm on her upper back and mechanically patted her head with the other hand, almost as if to say  _"there, there"._ Quite possibly the wrong thing to do, he reckoned fleetingly, but hey.

Anna hummed contentedly when he responded, and with a final squeeze of his torso she drew herself away from him. She sniffed and dipped her head with a shy smile as she said apologetically, "Sorry. I know you don't really like being touched, but I just wanted to hug you. After what we read, your theory made me feel a lot better. Even if it is just a theory…it's also a dream."

Kozmotis nodded slowly, his lips sewn tightly shut. The awkwardness of the situation seemingly dawned upon the young Snowfield woman, and after a loud clearing of her throat she made an awkward apology before turning to leave. Still stunned, he watched her navigate around the furthest table toward the door – and when her hands laced around the steel handle, he felt his mouth operate independently of his discomforted mind.

"Snowfield." he announced abruptly. Jumping a little, she turned and shot him an acknowledging smile as she said "What's up, Koz?"

"Don't tell Jack…but I just wanted to thank you for visiting. We often don't spend time together like this." he muttered, unsure of whether or not he was saying the correct thing, or if he should be speaking at all.

She frowned curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Like this. Talking. Even in battle, I don't think we've ever fought together since I trained you. I hope that it changes in future. I'd like the chance to fight alongside you." he sighed, forcing himself to sound as neutral and classic Kozmotis Pitchiner as possible.

Anna blinked in surprise, and he mentally cursed his slip-up. He was supposed to be closed off, cynical, pessimistic and sarcastic. Not open, welcoming and…dare he think it…nice. In his mind, you had to be tough and closed-off to survive in this world, and it had served him well thus far.

Nevertheless, she smiled toothily and gave him an appreciative nod. "Yeah, I'd like that. See ya!" she said brightly, and without another word she opened the door and left to find her fiancée.

Kozmotis stared at the door as it closed on its own, and once the click of the catch signalled he was alone once more, he screwed his eyes shut and vigorously shook his head in an effort to reassert some form of clarity.

"Snap out of it, Pitch." he hissed angrily at himself, and mercilessly quashed the glimmer of warmth.

"Don't be so weak."

* * *

 

_Time: 14:15_

It was like an itch had settled in the back of her mind – something had been said during her rather illuminating hang-out with Kozmotis, and it was important – or at least, thought-provoking – enough to warrant taking up valuable real estate in her already tumultuous thoughts.

Whether it was what he said or  _how_  he said it, she wasn't sure – but something didn't sit quite right with her. It was like trying to remember a name she  _should_  know off by heart, or a word that sat on the tip of her tongue. The sensation of mild and calm frustration in one's chest as they click their fingers over and over again, hoping the rhythmic physical gesture would in some way jump start their thought process and provide the last piece of the puzzle, thereby turning the itch into a full-blown idea or realisation.

So what was the last piece, the final jigsaw that would provide an answer as to why a disquieted feeling had settled in her stomach?

"Hey Anna, you okay? You look a little spaced out there."

She visibly jumped at the half-curious, half-concerned voice emanating from somewhere in front of her. Blinking as her erratic thought process receded from the front of her mind to somewhere near her subconscious, she took a quick assessment of her surroundings and found that she had travelled almost half of the huge outer ring that connected the five districts on her way to find Kristoff in the Habitation District, where he was helping to move the bunk beds from the  _Star_  into their new place of residence. Time indeed flies by when you are lost in thought.

"Anna?"

Her head snapped to the source of the smooth, slightly nasally voice, and found that not only had she covered a fair distance without noticing, she nearly walked into Hiccup. Toting several gadgets and metallic objects in both arms and looking like the slightest movement would send them spiralling to the floor, the chocolate-haired Ghost's emerald orbs regarded her with a narrow-eyed, concerned gaze.

"Huh?" she murmured absent-mindedly, "Oh, I'm fine, just lost in thought. Koz just told me a few things that are kinda scary and kinda cool. How about you?"

Hiccup shrugged the slightest amount as his mouth twitched into a smile. "Nothing much. Finished tuning the power relays in the Habitation District – Neve wanted me to make sure that nothing could go wrong with the lights or communication system, 'cause some of the kids really  _don't_  like the dark. Can't say I blame 'em. Right now, though, I'm off to the Maintenance District for my break."

"…and you're taking this tech with you…for your break?" Anna drawled with mild incredulity, cocking an eyebrow as the left side of her lips quirked into a smirk.

He grinned bashfully. "What can I say? Making stuff is how I relax. This stuff in particular, I'm hoping to turn into an energy sword. I'm gonna call it Inferno."

"You boys and your weapon names." she sniggered teasingly. "Jack calls his M4-A1 'Pippa', Koz calls his G36 'Emily Jane'…you're all weird. Anyway, how're the hearing aids working out…and where's Toothless? And while we're on the subject…where's Hiro?"

Hiccup chuckled happily, as though the very notion of her asking as to his wellbeing was pleasing. "Well, we all know how women are badass, therefore equally badass things should be referred to in a feminine way – I mean, we all refer to the  _Star_  as a lady, don't we? Even though she's old, she's still hardcore. Anyway, the hearing aids are working fine, though I still need to tune them a little. Loud voices tend to come out  _really_  loud, and we both know Jack would have a field day with that. Toothless – he's topside gallivanting around in the grass and hillsides, waiting for the kids to come out and play. Didn't feel right keeping him down here with me, even if I wanted to. As for Hiro…he found a three-dimensional printer in the Maintenance District, so I've pretty much been forgotten."

"What does he want with that?" she frowned.

"I don't know, but he says it's something to do with his Baymax A.I. So, where are you off to, milady?" he asked curiously.

Anna blinked at the question – with the errant, frustration-inducing thought still at the back of her mind combining with the brief catch-up with Hiccup, she had forgotten precisely where she was heading to, or rather, who.

"Oh, I was just going to find Kristoff and tell him some good news. Do you know where he is?" she asked, a little more quietly than she intended. Hiccup heard her question nevertheless.

"He's in the Habitation District. I left him in the…Red Wing, I think. Just follow the red line as you enter the district and you'll be fine. Anyway, I must depart – Inferno wants to be made, after all." Hiccup said cheerfully.

"Yeah, yeah. See you later, you crazy tech-loving person." Anna snorted as she passed by, earning a mild  _"hey!"_  as she reached up and ruffled his hair on the way.

True to the rider's word, the red line on the floor that began as soon as she walked through the cavernous, well lit concrete entrance to the Habitation District led her exactly where she wanted to go – though not without over a dozen instances of weaving and dodging.

Neve had decreed upon the  _Star's_ arrival that the first thing they needed to do was ensure that the crew had a place to sleep at night and, even two days on, the move into the Habitation District was still underway. Dozens of people filed past her as she walked, some toting their belongings that they managed to bring with them when they were rescued or retrieved during milk-run sorties by the Ghosts and any other teams that happened to be operating back then, while others toted equipment and furniture, like tables and bunk beds that were carried by teams of four.

With the activity firmly entrenched in the category of  _'bustling',_ she lost count of how many times she yelped and shot out of the way of oncoming furniture-related disaster on her travels, usually because people weren't watching where they were going. However, a hasty apology from the offending movers and a dismissive  _"no worries"_ from the strawberry blonde usually assuaged any lingering frustration.

Except what was at the back of her mind, of course, which slowly began to inch its way to the front once more.

A quick question to Jamie's mother as they passed each other was all she needed, and under her direction it didn't take her long to navigate her way towards where her fiancée was said to be – which happened to be one of the smaller, two-person rooms at the furthest end of the Red Wing.

As she closed in on the last room, which was the only one where the steel door was still open – the other rooms were either occupied or no-one yet claimed them – the ceiling-installed ventilation system kicked in with a loud humming, signalling its mechanical and clockwork recycling of the used and carbon-dioxide infused air of  _Sanctuary_ with the fresh, clean air of topside Greenland…and she could almost  _smell_  the crisp, pollution-free, slightly salty air even though she was more than a hundred feet underground.

It smelled like  _home_.

However, even the sonorous ventilation system couldn't drown out the grumbling that swam out through the open doorway – and she felt her pace quicken as a warm smile instantly curled both sides of her lips when she recognised exactly  _who_  the irritated voice belonged to.

Reaching the concrete door frame, she folded her arms and leaned sideways against it with her right foot crossing her left, and smirked to herself as she watched Kristoff war with himself – or more precisely, war with the location of their furniture.

With his back to her, wearing a red T-shirt and black pants, he went through a nigh perpetual sequence of  _'bend down, slide the bed a few inches, stand up, shake head, rinse and repeat'_ to the point that their bed frame had travelled the entirety of the left side of the room to the right, facing every direction in between. In amusement, she concluded that he was preparing  _their_ room; when they had their first date all those years ago, which was basically a candlelit dinner in the  _Star's_  cafeteria surrounded by bland benches and blue stools – the setting didn't matter, because it was sweet and romantic and she  _loved it –_ Kristoff had to make sure everything was just so. It had to be perfect, just like the placement of their furniture.

"I thought the stereotype was that nesting is supposed to be done by a woman?" she said teasingly.

Startled by the sudden voice, Kristoff jerked upright from his bent position and whirled around in surprise, but upon resting his hazel eyes on her smirking features, his expression softened to warm, pleasant joy.

It was as the two betrothed gazed upon each other that she realised how much she loved him; that cute button nose, his height that nearly rivalled Kozmotis', the huge physique that exuded strength and power but hid the golden heart of a gentle giant – caring and cuddly, but terrifying when roused. She knew how he would always love and support her, but would also call her out if she needed it. She loved the feel of his mousey-blonde hair through her fingers, and the sensation of his skin against hers. She knew she loved no-one other than this man, and in turn he loved her with his heart and soul, and the idea that – if Kozmotis' theory proved to be true – they could enjoy more than a century together was something that she could only dream about.

"Oh hey, sorry I was just-"

"Nesting?" she finished pointedly as she sauntered to stand close to him, and unfolded her hands from her body to rest them upon his waist.

"Yeah," he sighed as he awkwardly scratched the side of his head, "pretty much. I'm just a bit all over the place at the moment. With everything that's going on in  _Sanctuary,_ and the fact that Jack hasn't reported in for a couple of days…I'm just trying to distract myself."

"Yeah, tonight's the night they scout out that supply train isn't it? Do you think something happened to them after…you know…?" she frowned with concern.

"No," he shook his head with emphasis as he rested his large hands upon her upper arms, "if he was discovered, the Media Stream would have gone nuts that a Ghost had been captured, and The Butler would have made an emergency radio call to warn us. I suppose the quietness is a good thing…"

He grunted, and shook his head once more – albeit a lot slower than before – as though to banish unwelcome images from his mind.

"Anyway, enough of that. Where've you been?"

"Oh, nowhere. Just hanging out with Koz in the Science District." she shrugged, but couldn't stop the wide smile from lighting up her face at the prospect of what she was going to tell him.

Kristoff looked at her with deep incredulity. "Wait. Koz actually  _allowed_  you to hang out with him? He didn't throw you out?"

"Yeah! It was kinda cool actually. We talked a lot about what he had learned." she explained. Kristoff blinked in complete surprise as his face went slack, and muttered in amazed sarcasm, "Kozmotis actually tolerated someone other than Jack and Hiro. Now the world really  _is_  ending."

"Oh stop it. Anyway, he has an idea that sounds  _really_ cool. Want to hear it?"

Kristoff nodded his assent as he guided her to sit on the bed, and the next thirty minutes were spent by Anna relaying everything she learned in the laboratory; the diary of Dr Summersby, the C-112 serum and its status as the progenitor of the Toxin, the fact that the very first abnormals were the five psychotic creatures dispatched two days ago in a fierce and bloody battle, and when she told her fiancée all about Kozmotis' hypothesis that the Toxin  _could_  grant an unnatural length of life, the sequence of facial expressions that danced between horror, surprise, anger, discomfort and enlightenment finally settled upon a wistful smile – and she knew that he was thinking the same thing.

"I can't believe it…" he murmured faintly.

"I know, right? All the time we could have…" she grinned. Slowly nodding his head, the mousey blonde added, "Exactly…I mean, I'm no romantic, but-"

"On the contrary, my dear Kristoff; underneath that gruff demeanour is the heart of a soft teddy bear and you  _know_ it." She teased, leaning forward to peck him on the cheek for emphasis. He barely reacted, continuing to stare at an invisible spot on the floor below them, and was silently vacant for long enough that Anna felt concern begin to blossom.

"Hey, you okay?"

Her question seemed to stir some life back into him, and with a grin that split his face from ear to ear, he shot up from the bed, gently-but-firmly pulled her to her feet, and elicited a startled squeal as he placed both hands on her waist and lifted her into the air.

"You kidding me? I am  _wonderful!_ " he rambled excitedly, "Seriously, this is awesome."

"You really think so?" she squeaked breathlessly as he spun her around.

"Yeah! Anna, you are everything to me. You are just precious to me. I would do anything for you, to protect you from harm. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, or if I didn't have you, and to hear that we…wait, what's wrong?"

It was at that moment that the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. Her previous joyful beam fell into a deep frown of realisation as memory upon memory cascaded down upon her mind's eye, punctuated by the slightly lamenting words of her close combat mentor.

_Even in battle, I don't think we've ever fought together since I trained you. I hope that it changes in future. I'd like the chance to fight alongside you._

The itch of dawning comprehension finally left her mind, and in its place came a greater clarity regarding every scuffle she had ever been a part of.

"Put me down, please." She muttered emotionlessly. Frowning with lack of understanding, her fiancée murmured a quiet  _"of course…"_  as he gently lowered her to the floor, and the instant her feet touched the concrete she wriggled from his embrace, turned her back and walked away from him.

Her arms instinctively wrapped themselves around her body as the memories kept coming, creating a squirming in her stomach and an acutely loud heartbeat. When they bombed the military cloning facility in Brazil, she was ordered to use a gadget of Hiccup's to take down a section of the laser security fence around the building, and remain outside to alert them if anyone was coming, while Kristoff, Jack and Kozmotis entered the place in earnest and became embroiled in a short firefight.

"Anna?"

During the prisoner convoy raid in Nebraska, she circled the disabled train in the  _Yeti_  while everyone else conducted the mission.

"Have I said something wrong?"

During the Battle of the Depot, the extent of her combat involved the quick incapacitation of a truck driver while Jack and Kozmotis distracted the base staff, and then spent most of the violent battle loading fuel cells onto the  _Fairy._ The battle where two of her comrades both sustained injuries and four scout team members were captured – and she was there for merely the beginning and the very end.

In nearly every battle, raid or rescue that the Ghosts were involved in since her initiation and the blossoming of her relationship with Kristoff, she was either out of danger or peripherally involved. She needed to hear it from the horse's mouth, something in her cried out for confirmation of her suspicions.

"I need to ask you a question, and I want you to give me the truth, no matter how hard it is. Can you promise me that?" she asked quietly, but with a voice that cracked ever so slightly as a lump began to form in her throat.

"Of course, you know I'll always be honest with you. Anna, what's going on?" he said affirmatively, with an edge of worried uncertainty.

" _Promise me_." she urged.

"I promise." he answered emphatically, but softly. Satisfied that she could believe him, she nodded to herself, and closed her eyes as she prepared herself to speak the question she didn't want to ask, for the answer she wanted to hear.

"Have you intentionally been keeping me out of the fight whenever we go out on missions?" she asked firmly and emotionlessly.

The silence that followed her question was deafening, telling, and completely eradicated the cheerfulness that permeated the room only minutes ago. She heard nothing but the creak of the bed and, with a solitary tear that slid from her eye derived from potential confirmation of her suspicion, she turned around to find him sat upon the mattress with his elbows resting upon his knees, playing with his fingers as he hung his head. The question was as good as answered, but she still needed to hear him say it.

"Have you?" she persisted.

Kristoff didn't lift his gaze from the floor between his feet. "Yes." was his croaked answer.

Anna let out a sharp breath she didn't know she had been holding, and cast her eyes to the ceiling in anger and hurt, feeling a second tear slide down from the very point of her left eye towards her ear. It was true, then. She began to slowly pace between the bed and the door, wanting to wrap her arms around him yet at the same time wanting to walk out of the room in frustration. It felt like Unity, felt like her parents all over again, that someone had made decisions for her without her knowledge or consent.

"Why?" was all she could manage through a growing lump in her throat as she rounded upon him. He lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she could easily see a shimmering wetness begin to develop in the eyes of the man who, in similar situations of emotional distress, would endeavour to be as stoic as possible.

"Anna…you are my whole world. You are part of me, my soul mate…I barely remember my life before you came into it, and I cherish every day I still get to see your face. I love you so much, I'm just…so scared of losing you." he explained quietly yet passionately.

"Kristoff…I love you too, but that doesn't give you the right to do that." she replied, trying to remain calm.

"I know…" he held up a placating hand, but that only angered her even more.

" _Do_ you? I just found out that my squad leader, who just so happens to be the love of my life, has basically rigged it so every time the Ghosts go on a mission; I am the one most likely to survive. Do you even  _know_  what that feels like? To know that you  _intentionally_  planned for my survival, knowing that it could put my friends in greater danger?" she practically shouted.

"Anna…" he began, but she mercilessly cut him off.

"Is that why Scout Team Red was left behind, just so you could make sure I lived?!" she yelled.

"No!" he shouted back as he shot to his feet, his face contorted with anguish, and a flicker of empathy told Anna that he was evidently fearful of whether or not he had pushed her away. He took a step towards her, but froze when she involuntarily shrank away. She was still too angry, still too hurt.

"Then why?" she asked sternly, painfully, brokenly. Judging by the droplets of glistening sweat that slowly descended from his temple, she reckoned that the temperature of the room had risen as a reflection of her frustration.

She watched as he stared in wide-eyed stung surprise, and under the seeming realisation that he was going to have to completely open up, he stepped backwards and collapsed down onto the bed with a heavy flop. She heard a loud, uncomfortable exhalation of breath, and his expression became one of resignation as he gazed once more at the floor, as though preparing himself for a bad outcome.

"My power…if I lose control for just one second, anything I touch will break. Bend. Twist. I learned a long time ago, to treat everything as though it was precious and worth a million credits, to hold a handle like it was made of an egg's shell…but you? You are  _invaluable_. There is nothing on this godforsaken earth worth more to me than you."

Anna felt her heart begin to soften, and her anger slowly abate at the heartfelt sincerity of her fiancée's words. Her lips parted as she suppressed a choking sensation in her throat, and her hands slowly unclasped themselves and clenched into fists over her chest.

"I…I j-just…I just wanted to p-protect you." he stammered, screwing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose in the beginnings of an emotional grimace.

"Kristoff, I was trained by Kozmotis, so I know exactly which two of a man's ribs I need to thrust between to hit his heart. Jack helped me to master my powers, so I can do stuff like burn down a building in seconds, or light a candle just by clicking my fingers. I can hit the dead centre of a target cylinder without even thinking about it...who taught me that? You. Kristoff…I'm a big girl, taught by three of the best. You don't have to protect me."

"I know, I know. I am so sorry, I didn't mean to take it so far…I just…so scared of losing you." He murmured sadly, each word laced with guilt. Anna sighed, and then sniffed as she wiped her nose with a finger to stem off the errant tears that slid down her face in the previous thirty seconds…and let her heart guide her mouth with a cracked, choking voice.

"When I said yes to you asking me on a date and every date thereafter, when I said yes to us making it official, and when you proposed and I screamed in your ear that yes, I wanted to marry you, I did it knowing that one day, one or both of us could go on a mission and never come back. I fell in love with you,  _knowing_  that if either of us heard that the other was dead, that it would break our hearts – because life is too short to worry about what-ifs and maybes. I could die tomorrow, but I would die happy 'cause I am hopelessly in love with you, and I cherish every single day we are together. Do you understand?"

"I understand. It's pretty much a moot point now, me being so worried about losing you. I probably just did."

Anna frowned deeply, with a hint of incredulity and a dash of pitied amusement. "Kristoff, you haven't  _lost_  me."

Kristoff's eyes shot up to hers in hope and surprise as his hand fell away from his nose. "Does this mean…" he breathed. She could still see the glistening trail of tears that carved their way down his cheeks while his head was bowed.

"Does this mean what?" she frowned, not quite getting it.

"Our marriage…" he mumbled quietly, "does this mean the marriage is still on?"

And then she felt it, the beginnings of a warm and loving smile, derived from watching the man she adored look at her with such hope and wonder that he dare not entertain it, as though her answer was everything to him – almost like watching the relief cascade across his face when she accepted his proposal…all over again.

"Men," she chuckled as she moved to and knelt down in front of him, and took both of his hands in hers, "you're all so dense. Of course the marriage is still on, silly! Look, I'm angry and hurt that you would make that kind of decision behind my back, but now that I know you were just misguided and wanted to protect me, I understand what you felt. There is nothing I would love more than to be your wife, to be happy and to make  _you_  happy in this crappy world."

She felt his breath wash over her face as he sighed in deep, tearful relief, and as he screwed his eyes shut she surged forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

"But you need to promise me one more thing." she murmured into the fabric of his shirt. "Anything." He replied softly, brokenly. She pulled back and cupped his face with her hands, and gazed at him with a mixture of love, honesty, and an urgent desire to make him understand.

"If we're going to be married, I need you to promise me that you won't do it again, unless the mission dictates it. I need you to promise me that you won't intentionally keep me from the front line. It's why I wanted to become a Ghost, why I went through the training and the initiation. It's not fair on me or the rest of the team if I'm kept out of the way; I have as much a right to be there, fighting at their side, as anyone else. I need you to promise that if I want to, I will be there with boots on the ground and rifle raised, fighting the good fight. Can you give me that?"

Kristoff nodded in her hands as he smiled weakly. "Yeah. I promise."

She grinned widely, and sniffed as she leaned up to place a tender kiss upon his forehead. "Thank you." She murmured against his skin, and felt his arms wrap themselves around her torso and squeeze as much as he knew he could without harming her.

In that moment, she was angry, wounded, embarrassed and disappointed – but more importantly…she was happy, and it was an emotion she was keen to convey with a soft press of her lips to his.

"I'm sorry." He murmured against her kiss. She nodded ever so slightly, unwilling to break the beautiful connection.

"I know." She replied.

"I really did think I lost you back then." He said in a barely audible voice between each inhalation and exhalation of his nose. She chuckled, before sealing her lips to his once more.

"Honey, it's going to take nothing short of the end of the world to tear me away from you. I love you so much, my giant teddy bear." she said softly, quietly, affectionately.

"I love you too, my feisty fire-weaver." He replied, equally devotedly.

She sighed, and wrapped her arms around him for another deep, tender embrace, filled with nothing but physical  _and_  emotional warmth. "Well then," she murmured, "that's all we need. So, what say we finish up in here, then go topside to watch the kids play?"

"Perfect." He smiled against her shoulder. "Where do you think we should begin?"

A cheeky, evil thought crossed her mind rivalling that of her white-haired team-mate, and as she pulled away from his embrace and rose to her feet, she rested one hand on her left hip and caressed her chin with the other, frowning in pretence of deep thought.

"I think…" she said slowly, "it was fine just the way it was the first time."

Kristoff gaped. "I can't remember where I put it the first time!"

"Then you'd better hop to it and start over, soldier." she smirked with a bitten lip. He narrowed his eyes and mock-scowled at her with a jutting out jaw.

"You do know this place has a brig." He said. Unfazed, his wife-to-be simply winked and poked his forehead with her index finger, playfully smirking, " _You_  just want to see me in handcuffs."

What she  _didn't_ say, however, was that it was a notion she found herself to be  _not_ opposed to.

_Pervert._

* * *

  _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _ **02:14:07:45:02**_

* * *

 


	19. Don't Fear the Reaper

His body frozen, his heart thudding in his chest and his mouth dry like a desert, he slowly turned his head towards the dusty street…and that was when he knew what was going to happen.

Every occupant of Settlement Six that still remained outside, every warm body that stood still in shock with faces wearing the same expression contorted with fear and incomprehension…

Every single man, woman and child.

They were all going to die.

* * *

 _Location: Settlement Six  
Date: September 7_ _th_ _, 2073_  
_Time: 20:00_

 

… _thirty minutes earlier…_

 

" _All our times have come…here but now they're gone."_  Jack sang softly to himself, as the improvised iPod dutifully played a melodic song by something called Blue Oyster Cult,  _"Seasons don't fear the reaper, nor do the wind, the sun or the rain…"_

Casually leaning against the settlement's general store, his arms folded and his legs crossed, he watched with half a wry smile as three young children chased each other in a dusty game of tag through the main road that bisected the small village illuminated by dim yellowing street lamps, remarking to himself that no matter the living standards or if their clothes were old, dirty and full of holes, children always found time to play.

New Arendelle, New Burgess and New Corona were all the same, bar the structural shape of each city. The Upper levels were borderline clinical in their cleanliness, with perfectly manicured lawns so sharp and uniform that people dare not even go near them – and indeed, signs discouraging walking on the grass prevented such errant behaviour – Mk IV drones on constant patrol for any form of litter to pick up or stains to clean, specially assigned domestic animal parks for those lucky enough to obtain licenses for a laboratory-grown pet, propaganda posters, holo-images of the Unifier spouting the usual anti-Alliance pro-Unity rhetoric on every corner and nearly every wall, with the floral touch of easy-to-maintain flowers like daisies, blue geraniums and purple pansies in specified locations only. No roses allowed, of course, and heaven help you if your window box happened to play host to a climbing plant.

There must always be a polar opposite to everything, however, and those seeking a contrast to the cleanliness and order of any of the Upper Cities need look no further than the hundreds of settlements littering the entirety what used to be the United States, with most of them encircling the main cities for safety-in-proximity. With some structures built on flimsy frames with corrugated metal for walls and roofs, and others utilising existing buildings but with improvised brick-work or further use of corrugated metal to board up any holes, the quality of life in those settlements was a far cry from the three main cities – even the lower levels.

Still, the populace made do with what they had, even if the vast majority of the continent was war torn. By nature, humans are survivalists driven by an overwhelming desire to live through anything coming their way, so whether it was walking along an impossibly clean road in sunny New Corona, or kicking up dust from a cracking, arid road in Settlement Six, each person was always guided by the need to be alive to see the sun rise the next day. Jack respected  _that_  at least, even if those people would surely turn upon him should they ever find out about his gifts. Even  _if_  some of them were quietly contemptuous of the regime under which they lived, he wasn't about to test the limits of their willingness to commit sedition. Hiding or simply interacting with an abnormal or Alliance sympathiser was an automatic prison sentence, and even  _if_  there wasn't a military clone presence around if you broke the rule, there was always one person devoted to the ideals of Unity that would report you at the drop of a hat.

Community spirit at its finest.

Having departed New Burgess shortly after his run-in with the infamous Snow Queen, Jack and Eugene had spent the best part of the night travelling to Settlement Six in one of the hover-jeeps that Scout Team Red kept concealed well outside the city limits, a clever contingency in case things went south and the team needed to make a snappy getaway. Most, if not all of the journey was spent in silence with both men lost in thought about what had transpired and what might be to come. Jack's thoughts were half of Snow Queen – or rather, the lack of military presence behind her – and the other half were of the mysterious supply train.

Either she was arrogantly confident in her ability to take him down on her own, or the divide between the blonde leader and her subordinates was wider than he originally thought, especially with Astrid risking her neck to give him a heads up.

It wasn't just her manner of arrival that puzzled Jack – even with the light in the room being dismal thanks to the perpetual night of the Lower City and an obscenely dim lamp, the features he could make out of the dangerous woman he found to be quite attractive, yet not out of the norm. There weren't any distinguishing features he could pick out – blonde hair and blue eyes would be a pitifully weak description to the rest of his team when he returned.

The strangest thing of the encounter, however, was the chill in his body. He had no idea why his powers were agitated by her presence, nor why they built as she closed in and reached a crescendo as soon as she walked through his door – yet a Snow Queen early warning system could be a useful thing.

He briefly entertained the notion that she had powers herself – but swiftly dismissed it as a laughable notion bordering on heresy. The idea that an abnormal was hunting  _other_ abnormals, especially under Unity was something he couldn't fathom…and even if it  _was_  the case, his disdain for her and her team would only grow.

Eugene's thoughts, however, didn't need a psychic to read – it was easy for Jack to tell that his thoughts were only of one person. She had touched the natural brunette far more than either of them anticipated, and it wasn't a stretch to assume that Rapunzel gave Astrid their Uni-Com details out of the desire to protect him – another thing that confused the hell out of the Ghost. He wasn't really a romantic – or if he was, he didn't know it or hadn't found the right person – but he knew that under all the quips, cynicism and swagger, Eugene  _was_. Breaking the news of Rapunzel's true career as well as forbidding the relationship felt as though he was telling Anna she could never marry Kristoff, and in a small way it broke his heart. Eugene had been through some harsh times, from losing his family to a Reaper attack on the settlement he grew up in far to the north, to losing his  _second_  family, and then finding that his third chance of happiness was a mirage. He wondered how Eugene was still functioning and hadn't broken down into a depressed and suicidal mess at his constant bad luck.

He figured that it might have something to do with Scout Team Red's motto, something they had adopted from the now-defunct Navy SEAL team –  _The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday._  To Eugene, it meant that things would only get harder, so take each day at a time.

However, since arriving at Settlement Six there was plenty for the scout to bury the thoughts of Rapunzel with; including the train-shaped distraction arriving at the settlement in roughly half an hour, alongside the reason that Eugene was inside the general store while Jack impatiently waited outside, listening to his music to pass the time.

Anna's wedding present.

Jack had already bought his; the long bar of luxury chocolate from the New Burgess museum – easy to obtain if you lived there but a rare delicacy if you did not. Eugene found his task to be slightly more difficult, and so chose to peruse the store that sold various items scavenged from the ruined cities nearby or traded by travellers, in the hopes that he might get lucky.

As he watched the three children turn the game of tag into a dog pile on the dusty earth, he felt a rather insistent set of taps on his right arm and, jarred from his thoughts and the music, sharply turned his head to find Eugene stood by him, holding a few objects by his chest, mouthing something he couldn't hear above the guitar.

"What was that?" the Ghost asked, plucking the earphones from his ear. Eugene shook his head as he rolled his eyes.

"I said – I think I've got Anna's present." he repeated, jiggling the objects to direct his attention.

"Well, don't keep me in suspenders." Jack prompted as he rolled up the earphones and put them, along with the iPod in his sweater pocket once he had switched it off.

"Suspense, dude. The word you're looking for is suspense. Although I wouldn't put it past you to wear suspenders." Eugene chuckled.

"Whatever – whatcha got?"

The brunette grinned with pride as he shifted the objects onto one arm.

"Okay. Anna's fighting style is all about speed and power, right? All up in your opponent's face, never giving them a moment's rest, yeah? So I bought these for her-"

He pulled out a pair of long straight daggers, dirty and blunt with age, with small hilts above worn black leather handles. Jack's brow rose with an impressed twist of his lips.

"Nice. And I only bought her chocolate."

"I know, right? I mean, with a bit of tender loving care and if I make a couple of sheaths, these babies will look good as new! Although, the metal won't burn like her batons do…" he trailed off worriedly, as though discovering a fatal flaw with his present.

"You're fine," Jack waved a dismissive hand as he took the daggers with the other, "she doesn't burn the batons, she ignites the air around them. Same principle, but it means she doesn't go through them like she used to."

"I'm guessing that level of control is thanks to your training?" Eugene smirked pointedly while the Ghost stuffed the daggers into his duffel bag and re-adjusted the strap on his shoulder.

Jack spread his hands, and slightly dipped his head in feigned humility. "What can I say? I'm a good teacher."

"If you say so. Anyway, they cost me a pretty credit, so the owner threw in…" he trailed off again, this time out of the intent to not drop his spoils, "…these…"

He passed Jack a pair of small crimson dome shaped objects connected by a black wire, with a similar sized cable trailing off.

"I noticed they have the same connector thing that your earphones have, so I figured they might be useful to you. No idea what they're for, probably earphones for giants or something. Maybe Hiccup could tell you what they are."

Jack frowned. "You didn't have to, dude."

"Nah," the scout shrugged, "but I wanted to. You let me tag along on this road trip anyway, so I wanted to say thanks."

The Ghost's blue eyes flicked up to the affable hazel orbs in surprise, and then he nodded in appreciation.

"I don't know what to say…"

"Well, you've got a choice of  _'thanks Eugene', 'you're awesome, Eugene',_  and _'you're so amazing and cool, all the ladies want you and all the men want to_ be _you, Eugene'…_ " the scout began with a slightly high pitched lilt as he waved his arms in a theatrical manner.

"…you just killed the moment. Well done." Jack sighed as he slid the objects into his bag, next to the daggers.

"… _you're such a moment-killer, Eugene…"_

"Shut up. What else you got?" the Ghost scoffed, punching the scout in the shoulder. Chuckling, Eugene reached into the crook of his arm and produced…

"…a spatula. You bought a spatula." Jack deadpanned with barely concealed incredulity.

"Hey! Agatha's not just for smashing clone faces, you know?" the scout retorted.

"Yeah, but…a spatula?" he snorted.

"Laugh it up, Frostbite; they have all kinds of uses. You wait 'til you taste my glorious eggs." Eugene said, puffing out his chest with pride.

"…you  _had_  to make it weird." Jack sighed, covering his face with his palm.

Eugene opened his mouth ready to let slip a retort when a regimental, rhythmic thudding reverberated through the darkened, evening streets, regular and loud enough to vibrate the earth beneath their feet, and both pairs of eyes snapped to the western side of town where, turning the corner behind a ramshackle house with plastic sheet-covered windows, a column of clone soldiers emerged in perfect formation.

Instinctively, Jack turned as he pulled the hood of his sweater over his head and watched surreptitiously, while Eugene made a show of scratching the right side of his face.

Two abreast and eight deep, dressed in the customary identical attire of a three-quarter length fitted black leather military jacket, black pants and combat boots, opaque black helmets covering their faces and toting stun-rifles slung over their right shoulders with perfect mimicry of each other, the sixteen troopers marched purposefully through the town led by the two squad Alphas, both sporting full length fitted black trench-coats as befitting their rank. Jack's eyes darted over to the three children as a woman rushed over to them, helped them to their feet and hurried them out of the way as it was crystal clear that the marching column would not stop for anything.

"There's the new shift…" Eugene murmured in Jack's ear. The Ghost nodded in agreement.

"Means we've got, what, half an hour?"

"Twenty minutes," the scout corrected him, "I asked the storekeeper. Whole town shuts down until the shift change."

Jack nodded slowly. Given the way that twenty people had instantly darted out of the road as soon as the boots were heard, and were now watching the column as they passed through with fearful glances, it was easy to see that situations like this were a regular occurrence.

"Beautiful, isn't it."

A dry voice reached Jack's ears from his left, and he turned to find a dusty blonde man in his late thirties eyeing the backs of the clones with disdain as they moved away. He was a ruddy-skinned, portly man with his neck disappearing behind a roll of pudge, his belly stretching the bottom of a worn and greying shirt and sporting an ancient beige trench coat.

"If you like that sort of thing." Jack answered quietly, the column having passed far enough away for him to do so.

"Hmm," the man replied, "it isn't up to me whether I do or I don't, no?"

Jack quirked a wry smile. "I guess not."

The three men watched as life returned to the settlement, albeit with far more nervousness and hesitation than before. The children resumed their play time with a game of hide-and-seek, but it was infused with a sense of wariness evident by how the youngest child, a girl, kept glancing at the retreating clones as she crossed the dusty road towards the general store while her friends counted down.

"Edward Mortensen. I'm the Archon of this settlement." The man declared, offering a dry, calloused hand.

Jack cocked a wary eyebrow as he glanced at the gesture – Archons were the leaders of each specific settlement, put in the place of  _'power'_  by the regime in order to keep the population in check, and obedient to Unity. Archons were one below Scions who were the heads of each zone, and  _they_  reported to the Arbiter who controlled the populace – and the Arbiter was beholden to the top dog himself.

Simply put, men like Edward Mortensen should be as loyal to Unity as it gets.

"Chris," the Ghost replied as he shook the man's hand, "and this is my friend Zach." He finished, thumbing towards a politely nodding Eugene.

"Pleased to meet you both. Permit my bluntness, but what brings you to our fair settlement?" he said, turning to fix Jack with orbs of piercing, vigilant green.

"We're just passing through. We're not here to bring trouble, Mr Mortensen." The Ghost answered calmly, forcing a respectful smile. The settlement's Archon regarded him closely, carefully, scrutinizing every inch of the young man's face as though waiting for something. A tell, perhaps. It was getting to the point that, feeling decidedly uncomfortable and cornered under the watchful gaze as time dragged on, and fighting off thoughts of this strange man alerting the clones, Jack prepared to make a hasty excuse, grab Eugene and leave. If he was sussed out by an Archon, then it could put the train-insertion mission in jeopardy.

Whatever Edward was looking for, he seemed to find, and Jack felt his breath catch behind a mask of forced neutrality.

"No matter our intentions, trouble always comes around." He observed sagely.

"I-I'm sorry?" Jack stuttered as his mask of calmness dropped into a frown. Edward smirked dryly.

"I knew your reasons the moment you arrived. Visitors are a rarity here, so for two young, confident men to arrive within days of a supply train's arrival, wearing clothes that look in far too good a condition to be a settlement dweller and engaging in tasks solely to pass the time led me to conclude that you were waiting for the hover train. Which then made me wonder – who are they? They are definitely not Unity, and Lower City inhabitants prefer the darker confines of their cities. In addition, judging by the expression of contempt you wore when the soldiers passed further leads me to conclude that you have had prior experience with them. Therefore, you are not affiliated with the Alliance, so that means you are an abnormal."

Jack's left hand instinctively began to slowly move towards the concealed bracer under the sleeve of his right arm, and he heard the quiet footsteps of Eugene carefully backing away. Was it that easy, or was the Archon just that observant? He checked his escape route – it would be simple enough for him to pluck out and extend the bracer, grab Eugene and fly off into the evening sky, but that would render the mission a failure as Edward would undoubtedly alert the clone troopers to their presence. Secrecy and stealth were their strongest allies at this point, but also the most fickle.

"You don't need to worry. I don't share our regime's sentiments regarding your kind, so your secret is safe with me." The Archon smiled genuinely as he laced both hands behind his back.

The Ghost blinked in complete and utter surprise, and he heard a barely suppressed cough from behind him.

"…what?"

"I am not a fan of our current regime, as much as it pains me to keep up the façade of loyalty. My thoughts are with the people under my care, and when I was informed by the Scion two years ago that construction of New Fransokyo was on indefinite hold, I felt my loyalty to Unity wane. My people were first on the list to move into that city, you see." The Archon explained bitterly.

"Meaning you and your people would be stuck here for the foreseeable future…" Eugene mused sombrely, and Edward hummed his assent.

"Precisely. They may not trust you and some of them may even report you, but I will not. However, my duty is to my people – therefore, if danger were to ever follow you here, I am afraid I would put their safety over yours."

Jack nodded slowly and knowingly. "Totally understand. We wouldn't have it any other way."

"I am glad we are on the same page. Now, let me tell you about the supply train – there are seven carriages; the first two are for the soldiers, while the rest are for whatever they are carrying. Each one has a guard on the roof, and they patrol the length of the carriage in an awfully lazy manner. There is a five minute window where the troops swap places, therefore I would suggest-"

Smiling, the Ghost held up a hand to interrupt. "We already have a plan, don't worry."

"Ah, excellent," the Archon clapped his hands together, "but I feel I must warn you – if there is any form of disturbance either there or in this settlement, someone in that pitiful excuse for a station will alert the train via Uni-Com. It will not stop, so you must be careful."

"Thanks for the heads up. I've got to say, I didn't expect us to be talking about this." Eugene said, pocketing his hands. The Archon bowed his head slightly with a strangely impish smirk.

"Well, friends are hard to come by in this day and age, especially when it comes to people with gifts like yours. You see-"

Whatever Edward Mortensen was about to say was swiftly and summarily cut short by a sound coming from the northwest that, judging by the crinkling of his eyes in confusion, he did not recognise…but one that Jack and Eugene were all too familiar with.

"What  _is_ that awful sound?" the Archon frowned, his head moving this way and that in an effort to locate the source.

Jack swallowed thickly and dryly, and as though guided by second nature he slid the pistol from the back of his pants.

"Reapers…" he muttered hoarsely.

The shrieking that filled the air was loud, piercing and bloodcurdling, and it sent a shudder through his spine that was so potent his entire body visibly shook. He knew that sound from some of his nightmares, the ones he endured in his first years of being a Ghost; a spine-chilling screech that signalled the arrival of dozens upon dozens of humanoid creatures, things that lay waste to anyone unfortunate enough to attract their attention, things that bite, tear, rip and slash.

His body frozen, his heart thudding in his chest and his mouth dry like a desert, he slowly turned his head towards the dusty street…and that was when he knew what was going to happen.

Every occupant of Settlement Six that still remained outside, every warm body that stood still in shock with faces wearing the same expression contorted with incomprehension…

Every single man, woman and child.

They were all going to die.

Unless he did something about it.

Governed by a sudden burst of adrenaline, he sprinted out into the middle of the road while his hands dived into the duffel bag to retrieve his Ghost goggles. Quickly and haphazardly stretching them across his head, he muttered a quick command to the basic A.I. "Baby Tooth" to zoom into the distance…

"Shit…" he hissed, just as the scout caught up with him.

"How many?" Eugene asked worriedly.

"Fifty or more."

"How long?"

"Three minutes, maybe less."

"Fuck…" the scout hissed, "these people have no idea what's coming, Jack."

"What is going on?" the Archon asked breathlessly, his ruddy brows furrowed in incomprehension as he caught up to them, "what is that sound?"

Jarred by his voice, Jack quickly yanked the goggles from his head and fixed the man with a purposeful glare.

"Those are Reapers, and they're headed this way." he said.

Edward's face went slack with fear and surprise. "What? But…they're just a rumour!"

"They're not a rumour. They're real, they're dangerous and they will kill  _everyone_  in this settlement." Eugene hissed.

"B-But…we've n-never heard of them! We thought they only attacked the far northern places!" the Archon stuttered, evidently struck with fear.

"We're wasting time," Jack snapped, "what's the safest place here?"

"T-The Archon Hall…it locks from the inside…" Edward stammered.

"Get everyone off the street and into that hall, and lock the door behind you. Once you've done that, get on the Uni-Com and tell every person in this settlement to hide, and above all, they must  _not_  make a sound."

"B-But…"

" _Get them inside the hall!"_  Jack roared.

The Archon jumped in fright and, snapped out of his fearful daze by the abruptness of Jack's reaction, quickly hurried off to relay his instructions. Almost instantly, those that stood rooted to the spot in shock began to scurry away with him, and the two men waited until they were out of sight before they themselves made a move.

"I can't believe this place doesn't have a Reaper contingency," Eugene muttered angrily as he watched them leave, "speaking of which, what about us?"

"The general store, we can hide there. Come on." The Ghost answered quickly, and both men instantly turned toward the building Eugene had previously left with his spoils, intending to find a place to hide.

"Why don't we just fly off?" the natural brunette protested as they jogged toward the doorway.

"It's a full moon, and the station is well lit. They'll see us. Do you fancy being target practice?" Jack hissed.

Slightly ahead of him, the scout quirked his head to the side in a silent  _point taken._  "Not particularly."

"Then let's hide." Jack finished curtly.

The scout entered first, but it was just as Jack stepped onto the wooden veranda and was about to enter the doorway when he heard a quiet whimpering from somewhere to his left, followed by the shudder of plastic upon wood. Frowning, he moved towards and peered at a shape in the shadows cast by a water butt against the store's wall, and felt his heart shoot into his mouth when he realised exactly what the shape was…or rather, who.

The little girl from earlier on, who had found a place to hide just before the Reapers began their customary shrieking, and was evidently been forgotten by her friends as the Archon led them away. Her round, dirty face was contorted with uncomprehending fear as though she knew  _something_  scary was coming, but didn't know what, and trembling arms wrapped themselves around equally trembling knees that were brought up to her little chest. She couldn't be more than seven years old, and if she stayed behind the barrel with no idea what to do, Jack knew she would surely die – and the notion broke his heart at the same time as strengthened his resolve.

"Hey," he said, forcing his voice to be as soft as possible, "what's the matter? You scared?"

The little girl's eyes snapped to his, and he was reminded of how much of her innocence there was at stake as she nodded vigorously.

"It's okay, I'm scared too. My name's Jack, what's your name?" he asked as he slid the pistol into the back of his pants and knelt down to be at her level, to gain her trust. She studied him briefly, before speaking in the sweetest voice he had ever heard.

"Elara…"

"Nice to meet you, Elara. Say, you like playing games, right?" he said.

Elara nodded.

"I love games too! When I-"

Jack was interrupted by Eugene's panicked hiss of  _"less than a minute, dude!"_  from inside the store, to which he retorted " _yes, I know!"_  between gritted teeth.

"Sorry, where was I?" he began, and pulled a funny face as he pretended to remember, eliciting a quiet giggle from the little girl, "oh yeah! When I get scared, you know what I like to do?"

Elara shook her head slowly.

"I like to have a little fun instead. Does that sound good?"

She nodded, and Jack felt his heart start to retreat further back down into his chest as he adjusted the strap of his bag with both hands so it rested upon his lower back, and extended his arms out towards her. Movement in the shadows between two houses on the opposite end of the street caught his eye.

"Great! So, how about we play a little game of hide-and-seek in the store, and we have to be as quiet as a mouse while we're hiding. Sound fun?"

Elara nodded once more, and with the lightest of feet she stood up and rushed into his arms. Moving quickly and quietly and with fluidic grace, Jack stepped sideways into the store with the little girl's arms wrapped firmly around his neck and her face buried into his collarbone, his heart thudding like a war drum.

"Remember," he whispered into the little girl's ear as he nestled himself into the corner to the right of the door, "no matter what happens, we have to be quiet as a mouse."

She tightened her hold of him as she whispered into the fabric of his sweater, "Okay, Jack."

A strange – well, not strange per se, more like incongruous to the current situation – warmth and glimmer of freedom twinkled in his heart the instant she finished speaking those two words, and for the next few seconds he racked his adrenaline-infused brain as to what the reason for the sensation of a small weight being lifted from his shoulders might be – and then, like the kiss of warm lips upon his temple, it hit him.

He had told this little girl his true name. Not his call sign, nor his false identity of Chris Ryan – his actual first name. Sure, she had no idea as to his calling or the gifts that he possessed…but the idea that for the first time in what felt like eternity, someone outside of his kind actually knew his  _real_  name felt…

…beautiful. As though for just that fleeting moment, he didn't have to hide behind pseudonyms or lies. He was  _free_.

"Here they come…" he heard Eugene murmur loud and clear through the silence of the room, from his prime position opposite the doorway, at the other end of the store.

The windows of the general store were big enough to allow him, with a little craning of his head, to peer out of the left corner of his eyes into the dimly lit road, though his vision was impaired by the grimy, unclean surface…and it was like the ground was  _moving_.

Completely naked, with razor sharp teeth and nails, the fifty-at-least swarm spread out over the road, with some crawling over the corrugated rooftops of the short, single storey buildings while others navigated the earth on all four slender limbs, their heads moving left and right in search of prey. One snapped its teeth and flailed at another that made the error of getting too close, the anguished sharp shrieking of the beleaguered creature ripping through the air. Jack winced as the first Reaper leapt onto it, dove its head down to sink its teeth into the second's neck and silenced the shrieking by tearing out its throat in a spray of crimson, returning the settlement into a state of complete and utter silence, filled only by clicks of their tongues and quiet hisses.

Elara's grip became fearful, so to soothe her he placed a hand over the back of her dirty, once-floral dress and slowly stroked up and down, while the other held her tightly to him. He caught Eugene's eye, and the scout promptly crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue – he wasn't sure whether it was an attempt to get the Ghost to laugh and thereby get him killed, but he silently chuckled anyway.

Returning his gaze to the window, the swarm slowly began to spread out in search of potential quarry, each of their limbs moving slowly and methodically as they sniffed the air, like predatory cats on the prowl. His heart began to thump wildly as two metallic thuds reverberated throughout the room, and his eyes shot up to the ceiling, guessing that two of them had jumped from the nearby building onto the store.

A small whimper, muffled by his sweater escaped Elara's lips as she flinched at the sound, and he soothingly stroked her hair in an attempt to calm her down. She was doing so well, he thought with a glimmer of pride in amongst the paralysing fear, she said she would be quiet and she was doing it better than most adults. He glanced once more at his compatriot, whose eyes traced over every inch of the corrugated metal ceiling as the footsteps slowly moved from one side to the other.

It was then that he noticed shuffling from his right, and mentally cursed several words unfit for the ears of the seven year old in his arms when he noticed who the offending person was – the store owner, who was evidently  _not_  present during Jack's impromptu crash-course in Reaper contingencies nor possessed a Uni-Com, and was thus unaware of what to do.

The owner caught Jack's glare with fearful, widened eyes, his chest deeply rising and falling as he hid under the flimsy hollow, upside down 'L' shaped counter, his knees drawn to his chest with knuckles of white. He must have seen the Reapers through the window, the Ghost surmised in his head, and followed suit when he and Eugene burst into the store and took cover.

It sent a trickle of worry down his spine; he could be as silent as the grave and he  _knew_  Eugene could be too, but he had a precious package that was too innocent to understand the danger literally outside their door, and a store-owner who had no idea what was going on. Two unknown variables.

Eugene waved almost imperceptibly, but enough to get the Ghost's attention, and put on a questioning frown at the heat of Jack's glower. In response, the dyed brunette gestured with his eyes toward the store owner, who was blocked from the scout's sight. Eugene promptly gave him an expression that screamed  _"you've gotta be kidding me…"_  which Jack responded with a resigned, exasperated shake of his head. The scout then launched into a silent, mouthed conversation, replete with angry gestures and equally irritated expressions, as though berating some invisible being that might be responsible for landing them in this situation. Chuckling, Jack returned his gaze to the terrified owner, released the hand that stroked Elara to jab a finger at him, then moved it to his lips to say  _"not a sound"._

The owner nodded his head, and seemingly decided that adjusting his position would be a good idea for a lengthy period of silence.

And it would have been, had his left foot not involuntarily twitched and shot forward as he placed his left hand on the ground, and the scraping over the dusty, sandy floor that followed was deafening in the pin-drop silent store. Jack's eyes widened in horror as his heart shot into his mouth, stalling his breath along the way, and instinctively he snapped his head to the window and  _prayed_.

For the first few seconds, he entertained the idea of a soundless sigh of relief when he found that none of them had ceased their search, and therefore remained oblivious to the accidental noise…

…save for one.

Perched on all fours on the veranda, an alerted Reaper stared unblinkingly into the dimly lit store, its head cocked sideways as it listened out for any further sounds. Clicks emanated from behind its bared teeth as it slowly prowled to the doorway, and the Ghost prayed that it would lose interest and move on.

If just  _one_  of them finds someone, they  _all_  do.

He watched for what felt like an eternity as the slender creature slowly edged forward to the point that only its back was visible above the bottom window frame, and focused on controlling his breathing to the minimum levels while mentally thanking the stars that Elara was taking the whole silence thing seriously.

The Reaper inched forward even further so it was totally concealed from his view. Jack snapped his gaze over to Eugene, who had clear line of sight of the slowly advancing creature, and was slowly shaking his head as he stared unwaveringly and unblinkingly at the doorway – a silent warning to the Ghost that danger was still less than five feet away.

Jack held Elara closer to him as he stroked her dirty blonde hair, not taking his eyes off the natural brunette even once. His breathing quickened as his pulse roared in his ears, loud enough that he was  _sure_  the creature would hear it.

For an abnormally long time, the room remained in a state of soundless, motionless tension…until the Reaper finally lost interest. Resuming its indecipherable clicking sound, Jack heard the shuffle of it turning around, and quickly craned his head to peer out of the window, and tried  _damn_  hard not to sigh in relief when he saw it slowly move to re-join the thinning swarm.

He turned his gaze from the window to shoot a searing glare at the store owner, who had a hand clasped to his mouth as though the act would miraculously silence any sound….

…except it was the same hand he used to adjust his position, and was therefore covered in old dust.

And he coughed.

Jack's heart shot once more into his mouth at the mercifully muffled sound, and snapped his head back to the window in the long-shot hope that the Reaper did not hear it…but he couldn't see it anywhere on the veranda. Maybe, he thought, they were lucky that time. Maybe the noise was too quiet for it to hear.

Movement in the corner of his eye from inside the doorway killed that hope stone dead, and his gaze slowly travelled to the right and fell upon the full form of the Reaper that  _nearly_  left them alone, whose interest was wholly, irrevocably in that room.

Carefully moving his lips to Elara's ear, he whispered four words at a level just above 'deathly silent' –  _"quiet as a mouse"_ , and felt her squeeze his neck in response.

The once-humanoid creature shot forward on its hands and feet and leapt onto the counter, its jaw vibrating with every single click that left its mouth, sniffing at the air inside the room for a clue as to the source of the sound. Jack's eyes darted down to the owner whose face was enraptured with terror as he stared through the wood above him, and back up to the hunting creature as it tasted the air.

It occurred to him in a moment of unwelcome clarity that it was the closest he had ever been to a Reaper in its full, sickly yellow, slender glory. The Ghosts made a point of getting the hell out of Dodge as soon as they even heard the beginnings of their signature shriek, so the reality that there he was, stuck in a ramshackle general store with a swarm of them outside and a  _very_  interested one within the four walls was a tale that he would totally relay to the rest of team – should he survive.

The Reaper continued to sniff in every direction like a cat, pausing only to emit another series of clicks before resuming its search of the air. Jack could not keep his wary eyes off the skeletal creature, as its inhalations began to follow a very specific direction, one that took its horrific face closer and closer towards him, and then with a pang of terror that flashed through his body and clenched his stomach, he realised.

It must be following  _his_  scent.

Leaping from the counter, its lithe four limbs landed upon the floor a few feet away from him, and methodically advanced in his direction. Elara's grip of his hoodie tightened even further in response to the sound, and he felt her little body tense against him in fear.

Not only that, but she  _shivered_ …and it occurred to him that in response to the tense situation, his powers were accidentally lowering the temperature around them. Therefore, clad in a mere floral dress, and accustomed to the usual climate of Utah, he knew Elara must be feeling the out-of-the-norm chill in the air more acutely than normal.

In a moment of self-reproach he thought to himself –  _I'm sorry, Elara. I want to keep you safe, but all I'm doing is keeping you cold._

Pausing within six inches of his face as it leaned over him, the Reaper was now so close he could  _smell_  its breath; a nauseatingly rancid odour that almost stuck to his face, lips and taste-buds. Forcing his eyes to remain open, out of both bravado and the increasingly desperate desire to keep his fear in check, Jack held his breath as he stared unwaveringly into the pure white orbs, watching as they flicked left and right. It was a pointless thing to do - the creatures were completely blind and therefore no amount of "looking" would do it any good.

However, with blindness comes a heightened quality to the other senses – specifically, hearing.

Reaper 101: If you are cornered, do nothing. Say nothing. Don't even  _breathe._  Remain completely, and utterly…

…still.

It sniffed at the air, two loud snorts that echoed through a room so quiet that a pin drop was a nuclear explosion. A Reaper's sense of smell wasn't too far above a normal human's, but it was acute enough for the creature to sense that  _something_  was in the room, even if it couldn't  _see_  them.

Its jaw twitched under sickly yellow skin as several staccato clicks and hisses filled the room, resonating through non-existent lips and rotten, perpetually bared teeth – whichever demon created them neglected to provide them with both upper and lower lips, so their mouths were locked in a permanent grimace.

It was as the creature blindly leaned even closer towards him, waiting for him to make a sound so it could pinpoint his location that he mentally assessed his options. He could wait, hope and pray that something would happen to distract the Reaper and take its attention away from him, but given that he noticed there was nothing within Eugene's reach for him to throw, and the store owner was paralysed with fear, he could consider that option a bust.

He could swiftly reach up and snap its neck, but there was every chance that more of its friends were waiting outside – and Reapers tended to shriek at the drop of a hat. He would bring down dozens of them into the room.

But then an idea jumped across his mind, a notion that danced between heroic, foolish and downright suicidal. He  _could_  snap the Reaper's neck, throw Elara toward the scout and then dive out of the doorway making as much noise as he could. Sure, it would attract every single one of those things, but he knew that it would mean Eugene, Elara, the owner and possibly the entire settlement would be safe.

He wouldn't be able to fly, since then he would be inherently silent – and his entire plan hinged on his ability to make a racket. He would  _need_  to be a tempting target. He knew that Reapers were faster than a running human, and eventually he would be run down.

It would mean his certain, agonising, screaming death from fifty sets of claws and teeth that would undoubtedly bury themselves in his flesh as they literally tore him apart, but as long as the little girl and his buddy were both safe, he was fine with it.

Why? This girl, this sweet and innocent child that he barely knew, that still found ways to have fun now had a piece of him, knew a secret that no-one else on the godforsaken continent aside from the battle-seasoned scout knew, and he would be damned if he allowed that girl to fall into darkness.

He'd rather die.

He felt his heart begin to slow with steely resolve, and his mind gradually cleared as he made peace with his decision. He tensed his arms in preparation to lunge his hands toward the Reaper's head, and mentally went through the checklist.

_Snap neck. Pass child. Run out. Make noise. Distract Reapers. Save people._

_Die horribly._

_No problem._


	20. The Sixth Rule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be violence and gore.

One of the things Jack noticed and loved about children was that they seemed to be instinctually aware of emotions or decisions before they are even felt, or made. Most possess a highly empathic nature that dwindles over the years as experience grows, and it becomes less about what they feel inside and more about the visual clues they pick up on.

It was probably why, as soon as Jack made the decision that he was going to kill the Reaper hovering over him, that Elara's arms squeezed him even tighter than he ever thought she could, to the point that her shoulder was pushing on his throat. She wouldn't let him go; he was her safety and her anchor against the darkness, fear and death around her, and as if his heart couldn't take any more anguish, his knowledge of why she clung to him so tightly only stabbed at it further.

She wasn't going to like what was going to happen to say the least, but it was necessary. She would live on, hopefully for many long years.

He, on the other hand, was ready to meet his maker and promptly punch him in the nose – but his only regret was that he wouldn't be there to see Anna on the happiest day of her life, nor would he see Jamie or the other children revel in their new home. He'd even miss the lanky Kozmotis, the grumpy, arrogant prick.

Then again, sacrifice is what it is.

But just as he was about to commit, as he prepared to lunge his left hand up to the Reaper's throat, drag it down to his other hand in order to snap its neck and permanently remove the immediate threat – there came a sound from the east, the same sound that sent the chill of fear through his spine and precipitated the entire ordeal not long ago, mixed with something he did not expect.

The sound of shrill pained shrieks...alongside the rapid firing of energy rifles.

The Reaper's entire body tensed as its head shot up toward the door, and with a  _rawk_  it coiled itself and promptly sprung towards the doorway and out into the warm night. Relief washed over the Ghost like a blissful tidal wave, turning the breath that he had been holding into a ragged, shuddering exhalation as his entire body shivered away the tension, and had he not been holding Elara in his arms like a fragile doll, he would have crumpled in on himself and uttered unintelligible groans. So, he settled for slumping the back of his head against the corner, closing his eyes and allowing himself one long, elongated hiss of  _"fuck…"_ while a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Anna's promptly chided him for cursing in front of a child.

"Is it gone?" Elara's frightened, barely audible voice rang out like a soft crack of thunder in the room taut with tension.

"It's gone," he mumbled quietly, "you're safe now."

She whimpered, nodding into his shoulder in response. Stroking the back of her head to calm her, he glanced over at his comrade who, though equally relieved and still a little on edge, bumped his fist twice against his chest and saluted with two fingers towards him – being who he is, Jack responded with a flirtatious wink and a blown kiss.

Being Eugene, he pretended to catch it, press it to his heart and swoon.

It was then that his peripheral vision caught the dim flashes of red filling the room – muted, as though someone was setting off fireworks in the far distance and the resultant hues were just about visible, and he remembered the reason that the menacing Reaper disappeared in the first place.

Clutching Elara close to him, he winced slightly as he pulled himself up the wall – being stuck in one position for a long time was murder on his spine – and craned his head to peer out of the window for confirmation of his suspicions.

At the far end of the dusty street, what looked like two squads of yelling clone troopers were engaged in a fierce battle with the shrieking Reaper swarm, with a convoluted line of dead creatures leading up to the actual violence. Sparks of ruby flew through the air, some finding their mark and instantly crumpling an attacking Reaper while others went wild, shot by those with teeth around their throats. The battle was frenetic and dirty – though the clones were tougher, possessed superior technology and were trained in combat, they were outnumbered. Reapers, on the other hand, were fast, lethal and light on their feet, but comparatively fragile.

"What's going on?" Eugene muttered quietly as he ungainly rose to his feet and  _extra-carefully_  crept over to squat beside the Ghost and his charge, resting his wrists on his knees.

"Never thought I'd say this, but thank Unity for clones. They just saved our asses." Jack murmured, aware of the irony.

" _Language!_ " the Anna-like voice in his head chastised.

Eugene's lips curled in a sardonic, dry and silent chuckle. "Wonders never cease," he mused, then nodded at the little girl, "how's Little Miss Brave?"

Jack turned his gaze from the window to the girl in his arms, and smiled with pride. "Just like you said, brave as a lion. Didn't make a sound, did you?" he cooed, and Elara nodded quickly, her head still buried in his shoulder. The Ghost chuckled, and murmured, "She's a big, strong girl."

She fisted the material of his sweater in her hands as she giggled quietly.

"So," Jack asked as he returned his gaze to the window, "what's the plan, Boy Scout?"

Eugene rolled his eyes at the moniker as he popped his head up, and the left side of his face promptly quirked in a mild grimace as his hazel eyes observed the battle. "Looks pretty vicious. Could go either way; the Reapers are doing some pretty bad damage, but they're going down in one or two hits…we should probably wait it out, 'cause-what's with him?"

Initially, Jack did not register Eugene's change in tone, and it took a pointed tap on his arm for his attention to be drawn from the battle. Frowning, he glanced at his cohort – whose eyes were firmly fixed at the store counter.

Specifically – where the store owner was huddled under it. His expression blank with catatonic fear, it was easy for both men to tell that the blood had left his face never to return. His arms wrapped themselves around his knees, and his eyes held that deadened look, often termed the  _"thousand yard stare"_ as they fixed themselves on an invisible point on the wall just under the window.

"Dude's comatose," Jack muttered, then promptly whispered to the huddled figure, "hey, anyone alive over there?"

Unresponsive, the owner continued to vacantly stare.

"Hey! Earth to-" Eugene hissed through gritted teeth.

At that, the owner's head snapped up towards the two men, his pale lips parted in shock. It was at that point that Jack realised with distinct worry that the man was in the vice-like grip of panic and terror, and he was at the point where, usually, people did one of two things. They either snapped out of it…

"I n-need to g-get out of here!" the man stammered incoherently.

…or they did something incredibly stupid.

Bewildered, Jack watched as the man scrambled from under the counter like the very place was aflame, and burst into a run around it before he was even upright, whimpering unintelligible nonsense every step of the way.

"Did I  _not_  just say we should probably wait it out?!" Eugene hissed in frustration as his head followed the swiftly departing man.

Jack numbly nodded just as another sound resonated through the room, one that clenched his gut and gripped his heart with nauseous, clairvoyant realisation – the metallic and hollow thudding of footsteps on the store's roof as the two Reapers, forgotten in the prior menacing tension, scurried to the side closest to the road.

"Elara? Cover your ears." he murmured warningly, and she obeyed.

They glimpsed the fleeting rush of two shadows across the room dimly lit by the outside streetlamps.

"Oh God…" Eugene breathed.

And then they heard the blood-curdling scream rip through the air.

Both men's heads shot to the window, and watched with horrified grimaces as the store owner was dragged to the ground, with one Reaper clasped to his back with its teeth embedded in his shoulder while the other pulled his legs from under him. Three sets of arms and legs thrashed in a violent display; brought down on his chest, the beleaguered man tried desperately to dislodge the furious assault that sliced into his flesh but found that his limbs were useless. He tried to roll onto his back in the mindless hope that he could defend himself, and it was something the vicious creatures allowed as they could gain access to fresh meat. He covered his face with his arms as the first Reaper brutally slashed at it, while the other sank its teeth into his thigh. Blood spurted and dripped from fresh wounds, coating the once beige ground in a nauseating crimson.

His screams joined the shrieks of those in the distance, and in the moment when his terrified eyes locked with Jack's through the agonising ordeal, when the first Reaper saw its chance and bit into his carotid artery, the Ghost knew he was about to do something he never thought he would.

He felt his world begin to slow down as, clutching Elara close, his emotions locked themselves away in their individual boxes in his heart and mind in order to give way to purpose. He rose to his feet, strode past Eugene and slid the pistol from the back of his pants as he neared the doorway. As he depressed the safety button for a few seconds, the scout's voice rang out in the room.

"You gonna shoot the Reapers?"

Jack shook his head as he brought the side-arm up, held it straight and level, and took a deep breath.

"No." he answered quietly, and squeezed the trigger.

A bolt of red erupted from the barrel, hurtled the short distance towards the dying man and impacted him in the chest, ceasing his struggles and thrashes as the crimson energy cascaded through and shut down his nervous system, brain and heart.

It took but a few seconds to kill the doomed man.

Alerted by the sound of pistol fire, unobtrusive though it was, one of the Reapers turned and lunged at him while the other darted away. Too close to fire accurately, Jack instead curled his left arm around him and swung in a vicious back-handed strike – the butt of the pistol shattered its jaw and sent it flying into the wood of the veranda.

From there it should have been a simple case of 'level pistol; squeeze trigger'…but something came over him, possessing him to descend into protective rage. While the Reaper scrambled to its feet and pitifully scratched at its non-existent jaw, Jack dropped the pistol to the ground as he coldly strode over to the grotesque humanoid in front of him, lashed his newly free left hand to the creature's neck, bodily slammed it against the wall and let his gift rush forth through his fingertips into the pinned creature's skin.

Flailing helplessly, the Reaper's pained shrieks became cracked and hoarse whimpers as ice spread perniciously through its throat, up to its brain and down into its lungs, freezing every cell in its path – and in less than ten seconds its arms went limp, ceasing its struggles against the Ghost's grip and its inevitable death. Satisfied that it was no longer a threat, Jack released the creature and let it crumple lifelessly to the floor.

He felt the bag suddenly dip down on his shoulders and pull him slightly backwards, and in a flash of unwelcome fear he remembered that there were  _two_ , and as he whirled around he prepared to defend himself and the girl in his arms with all the anger and combat experience he could muster.

The second Reaper was there, alright, but with its head impaled on one of Anna's daggers. The blade had pierced its lower jaw and entered its brain, with mauve blood sliding down the handle – held by a heavily breathing Eugene. It was evident to the dyed brunette that his saviour had sprinted out of the store, quickly plunged his hand into the duffel bag and used the weapon to save his life.

"Good thing you've got me to watch your six, Jack." the scout commented wryly as he withdrew the blade from the dead creature, allowing it to collapse into an unceremonious heap.

"Thanks, dude." the Ghost breathed gratefully while he stooped down to pick up his pistol, and it was then that he noticed his right arm was screaming with aching fatigue. Elara was a light and thin thing, but endurance only goes so far.

"No problem," Eugene shrugged as he bent down to wipe the blade on the deceased Reaper's skin, "but seriously – Anna told me that you're shit at it, but I never knew you were that bad."

As he rose to his feet, he tossed the blade into the air. Spinning quickly and elegantly as it soared to reach its apex, the blade then fell onto the scout's waiting hands which caught it on the very tip. Eugene was very much about theatrics, Jack knew, especially when the entire display was simply so he could gesture with the pommel aimed squarely at the Ghost's face.

"One of these days, you're gonna get yourself killed." the scout reprimanded, an expression of tight-lipped concern dancing upon his rugged, charming countenance as he stared under his eyebrows. Momentarily taken off guard by the bluntness of his friend's warning, Jack blinked twice before straightening up and reasserting his cocky façade.

"Yeah well," the Ghost replied breezily as he looked down at his pistol to ensure he was thumbing the safety back on correctly, "it's not gonna happen if I've got the likes of you watching it."

Eugene almost sadly shook his head, and sighed, "We're not always going to be there, Jack."

It was then that a singular shriek – not drawn out like the ones before, closer to a victorious screech – followed by rapid, staccato  _rawks_  filled the air, alerting both men to the scene of the distant battle that was raging for the past fifteen minutes.

Or rather,  _had_ been raging.

It was a grotesque, morbid sight; legions of clone troopers and motionless Reapers lay dead all over the street like someone had dropped them from a great height, curious as to the pattern that would be created when they landed. Crimson splashes and sprays adorned the outer walls of the flanking, haphazardly built buildings, in addition to spreading over the dry, arid ground like a sea of blood. If anything it was a  _sculpture_  of visible slaughter and at the tip of it, silhouetted by the grimy streetlamps a lone Reaper crouched, feasting on a clone's dismembered arm. Occasionally it raised his head to the sky and emitted a few  _rawks_  and clicks in victory.

Eugene grunted in contempt as he flicked the dagger in the air once more and adeptly caught its handle without even looking away from the bloodshed. "I'm gonna go deal with that thing over there. When you're ready, go to the Archon Hall and let everyone know the coast is clear." he growled – and it didn't take an Inquisitor to tell that there was a vengeful undertone hanging on each syllable. For Eugene – this was personal.

Without another word, the scout purposefully strode off towards the carnage, while he tossed the weapon between his hands like a skilled knife-thrower. Shifting Elara from one arm to the other so he could give his right arm a break, and clucking softly at the fact that her eyes were  _still_  clamped shut and her ears were  _still_  covered, he watched Eugene spread his arms wide and heard him issue a taunting yell of  _"Come on then, you beauty!"_  like a spectator in a New Burgess versus New Corona hoverball match.

The Reaper's head snapped up at the taunt, and with a piercing shriek it dropped the arm and bounded relentlessly towards the waiting scout, whose arms were still temptingly wide with the dagger in his left hand as he yelled obscenities unfit for  _anyone's_ ears. It closed the distance within seconds, and leapt hungrily towards him – Eugene, however, was ready. He ducked and weaved to the right and just as the Reaper passed by he plunged the dagger into its upper back. Screeching, it arched in agony and offered its entire torso to the world, something the scout took full advantage of when he yanked out the blade, whirled on the spot in a dervish of steel, and sliced its neck. Even though it was in the distance and was silhouetted by the yellow light, Jack could easily discern the spray of blood from the unfortunate Reaper's throat as it dropped to its knees, and created a billow of dust as the rest of its body followed suit.

For now, Settlement Six was safe. It was strewn with bodies, thick with death and ripe with fear…but safe.

* * *

 

The walk to the Archon Hall was little more than a short eastern stroll for the young Ghost, taking no more than forty five seconds, and for the most part it consisted of cautiously navigating lifeless corpses, taking care not to slip on the pooling sea of blood and ensuring that Elara's eyes remained closed at all times.

She was only seven, and though he was strangely unmoved by the carnage, he knew that the sight would have fucked up such a young and innocent mind. She should dream of knights and princesses – whether she was the knight or not would be her choice – of playing in the road and learning of beautiful things, not endure nightmares of death and horror, of vicious creatures and faceless soldiers. To dream is to gaze into the soul, and a child's soul should be as bright as the sun.

For Jack, the brief walk felt like an eternity, fraught with thoughts zipping around his mind at a hundred miles an hour.

_No matter our intentions, trouble always comes around._

Those words, those offhand yet wise words that had not left him alone since he began the journey to the hall seemed to take on a greater significance with every step he took, because he knew that on some level, the Archon was right.

Maybe it was them, he thought. Maybe their mere presence in that town was just a magnet for bad luck…that their gifts and physical changes were a marker for whichever higher power that people still believed in to throw buckets upon buckets of awful, shitty happenstance down on them. They hang around a settlement for two days, and out of nowhere a Reaper swarm decides on a whim to indulge itself in a little exploration. Maybe it was their presence that got somebody killed.

And then his thoughts would swing to the store owner. Fear was a simple enough concept, you either fight or you fly – and you don't necessarily need an opponent to 'fight'. Sometimes the enemy is your own mind, and the owner chose the latter. Jack was no stranger to violence, bloodshed and death – part of his occupation was to visit that upon clone troopers after all – so for some strange reason the sight of the unfortunate man being torn apart was something that he wasn't necessarily  _okay_  with, but didn't affect him as much as he thought it would – but what did hit hard was the fact that  _he_  killed him.

Oh sure, he knew that his friends would argue it as a mercy killing – the man's carotid artery had been pierced, so it was either the continuation of his agony while the blood spurted from his neck, or the instantaneous embrace of sweet, compassionate death. His friends would probably be right.

The point, in his mind, was that up until then he had not killed a single human being. Clones were fair game – with less than a fortnight's incubation rate from cell culture to fully grown man, programmed with basic combat techniques along the way – clones were basically no more human than a Danish pastry. They 'lived' for orders, and if there were none to provide them, then they were mindless and aimless. Nothing but a shell. They did not question, they did not hesitate – they simply existed to  _do_.

Of course, their aim wasn't the best, but as the saying went: nobody's perfect.

But humans were different. They had families; wives, husbands, children…people that loved them and were waiting for them to come home. Unity had no qualms about making newly bloomed abnormals disappear, so the Ghosts, their ex-sister teams and those that came before knew that they had to be different, they had to be  _better_. So that led to the creation of the sixth rule.

And Jack broke it. For all he knew, he was probably the first.

In less than a week, he slept with a Valkyrie and killed a man…and he found himself to be quite concerned with what Hiccup would think. Maybe the morally-conscious, balanced rider would believe it was a mercy killing and that the sex had a point…or maybe he would be disappointed, and believe Jack to be nothing more than a stain on their book of  _The "Good" and "Righteous" Ghosts._

Or maybe he was just getting himself into a muddle.

Another voice popped into his head, speaking from roughly where Anna's chastising voice used to be, and in some way he was relieved to hear that it was Neve, reminding him to  _"focus on the here and now, and the future will take care of itself"._

God, he missed Neve. The motherly, smart, educated and sassy woman that seemingly effortlessly led fifteen hundred people without ever letting the radiant smile fall from her face, no matter how tired or morose she was – and with the likelihood of Jack ever seeing his mother again being close to zero, the raven-haired woman was effectively his surrogate mother. In a fleeting moment, he felt like he could really use a cuddle from her.

However, all that went away when he closed in on the Archon Hall, and the world came back to him. He raised his clenched hand, and three knocks on the chipped, green painted steel door into what looked like an old community centre was all it took, though his emotionless announcement of  _"it's safe"_ didn't hurt.

There was a heavy clanking sound from the other side of the door, followed by the scrape of metal upon metal, and as he moved his right hand to Elara's back and rubbed it affectionately, a strained creaking heralded the opening of the barrier to the outside world, replete with half of the Archon's wide-eyed face timidly watching him. Through the crack in the doorway, Jack could see several people huddled together in the dimly lit room, regarding his general direction with equally frightened expressions.

"Are they gone?" Mortensen asked shakily.

Jack nodded, and summoned up a warm smile. "They're all gone." he answered with quiet pleasure.

Mortensen's eyes shot up into his forehead as he groaned with relief, and as his body visibly relaxed he muttered "Thank the stars."

"Can I come in?" the Ghost asked pointedly. The Archon's head slowly lifted up, and his ruddy features wore a confused frown.

"I thought you said they were all gone?"

"They are," Jack replied, "but it's not pretty out there. Also," he added, and stepped to the right, "I kinda have precious cargo here that wants to see her mama."

Mortensen's eyes widened once more as he hastily stammered, "Yes! Yes, yes, come in!"

He stepped to the side and pulled the door wide enough for the Ghost and his charge to squeeze through, and once inside he heard the metal clunk of it being closed behind him, ostensibly to ward off any curious eyes. Worried murmurs and whispers filled the room as all eyes rested expectantly upon him, and it started to make him feel  _just_  a little uncomfortable – especially when he could hear the whimpers of a woman far to the back. So he chose to distract himself with bringing Elara back to the world – the poor girl's eyes were still clamped shut, and her ears were  _still_  firmly covered. Hopefully she had been like that since he asked.

He wiggled his index finger under her small right hand, and once she had lifted it a small margin away from her ear in response, he quietly murmured to her, "Hey, kiddo? You can open your eyes now."

She shook her head violently and buried her head into his shoulder, just as she had done every time before. Mortensen furrowed his brows as he shifted his weight onto one foot in a silent request for enlightenment, to which Jack responded with a mouthed  _"she's still scared"._

"Nuh-uh. Monsters are still there." she squeaked, and though he mouthed a faintly cocky  _"told you"_  to the concerned Archon, he felt his heart melt.

"I'll go and find her mother." the portly man said before sweeping off.

"They're all gone, Elara. You're safe now." Jack murmured, having to lift her hand from her ear once more. Oddly, it took a little more effort that time.

"Promise?" she mumbled.

"Promise." he soothed.

Slowly, the little girl's eyelids opened to reveal gorgeous apple-green pools that gazed suspiciously out of the corner of her eyes, and her hand slowly slid away from her ears only to lunge out and cling to his sweater. Movement from the back of the room caught the Ghost's cobalt blues, and he watched as Mortensen led a thin, dangerously waiflike woman towards them. Her skin was pale and her cheeks were slightly sunken, her hair was the identical shade of dirty blonde, and she wore a faded green flowing skirt with a greying blouse. Her eyes were what drew his attention the most, as along with her expression they displayed stark relief, hope and joy all in one.

"Elara!" the woman cried as she pulled away from the Archon and rushed over to them, her arms wide open. In response, the girl only huddled herself closer to Jack.

"There's your mama, kiddo. Wanna go to her?" he cooed.

Elara shook her head as she squeezed him, evidently unwilling to part from his protective embrace. Seeing her response, hurt flashed over the woman's features as her arms faltered, and she quickly held them upright against her chest as she gazed imploringly at her daughter.

"C'mon, I bet you do." he persisted with a jovial lilt as he jiggled her in his arms. "It's okay, you're safe now. Nothings gonna hurt you. Besides…I think your mama could use a hug, don't you?"

That did it, at least after a few seconds. It took a little more convincing than Jack anticipated, but eventually she nodded and stretched out her arms towards her mother, who surged forward to embrace her daughter and held her tightly against her chest. The older woman sighed in joyous relief, and it garnered a sense of warmth and optimism in the young Ghost's chest at the sight of such a reunion. He did something right, at least, and the aching in both of his arms at having to hold her for so long felt like a  _good_  pain.

He was about to speak to the smiling Archon who waited patiently beside him when he felt an arm curl itself around his neck and yank him down, and before he knew it his startled face was buried in the mother's shoulder as she held him almost as tightly as her daughter did – and if it hadn't completely melted before, his heart became a puddle of goo when he felt a smaller arm rest itself on his back.

"Thank you," she whispered gratefully into his ear, "for keeping my daughter safe."

"Um…no problem…uh…" he stammered awkwardly, muffled by her blouse.

"Marina…" she finished for him.

"No problem…uh, Marina…" he mumbled, blushing with awkwardness that became too much to bear, "you can…you can let go now…"

"Oh…sorry…" she said shyly as she released him, though he had to duck under Elara's arm – evidently the young girl wanted a longer hug.

"Look after her, okay? She's a brave, strong girl…but she's been through a lot." he said, aware that he was probably preaching to the converted but felt obliged to say it anyway.

"I will." Marina smiled as she reached over to squeeze his hand.

The Archon leaned over to whisper something into her ear, and with a quick nod she flashed one last grateful smile at the Ghost before returning to the back of the room. Elara turned and waved, to which Jack responded in kind – throwing in a funny face for a cheeky girly giggle.

"I'm not surprised she was hesitant to return to her mother." The Archon observed.

Jack shot him a frown as he pocketed his hands in his sweater, and absent-mindedly played with his iPod. "Why d'you say that?

"Well, Marina may be her mother, but you kept her safe. You were her knight in shining armour."

Jack snorted derisively, but he couldn't hide the bashful red that crept into his cheeks – and to his annoyance, the Archon smirked knowingly in a clear indication that he noticed the reaction.

"Shyeah, I brought all this shit down on your settlement. Some knight." he grunted cynically.

"My boy, I suspect that the Reapers would have come whether you were here or not – and had we not been so fortunate to have you and your friend here with us, it isn't a stretch to assume that they would have wiped us out. Technically, it could conceivably be argued that you saved all of us." Mortensen explained.

"Not all of us. We…lost one." Jack sighed as he dipped his head and closed his eyes, trying to will away the mental image of a torn corpse. "The shopkeeper didn't make it."

Mortensen exhaled sadly, equally dejected by the news. "Oh, Alex. His wife will be devastated. How did it happen?"

Jack took a deep, galvanising breath before opening his eyes and explaining, "When Eu…Zach, Elara and I hid in the store, we saw him under the counter. He didn't hear me telling you what to do, so when the clones came he panicked and ran out of the store. He didn't see two of the Reapers waiting on the roof…they…they tore him apart."

"Horrific way to die…" Mortensen winced.

"They didn't kill him." Jack said as he shook his head, "I did. It looked like he wasn't going to make it, especially since one of them bit his neck…so I…shot him."

The Archon nodded sagely. "You committed an act of mercy, Chris. There is no dishonour in that."

"I still killed him, though. Not the Reapers. Me. I'm supposed to kill clone soldiers, not innocent civilians." Jack grunted.

"Sometimes the situation calls for us to do things we would otherwise baulk at. In any case, the danger has passed…and though the death of Alex is regrettable, everyone else is alive and well. I would call that a victory. Please, take it as such. In fact, when the Unity Media News crew arrive as I am sure they are apt to do, I will tell them-"

"No. No-one can ever know we were here." Jack rounded upon him and spoke low and firm.

"But…your kind has such hate directed towards it; imagine what news like this could do for your cause?" Mortensen frowned in confusion.

"I'm guessing you've heard of the Valkyries?" Jack raised his eyebrows as he persisted.

Mortensen nodded, and his eyes took on an almost cynical glint. "Yes, the latest in Unity's fascist secret police, responsible for the apprehending and incarceration of several members of your kind's militant groups."

"Bingo. If they catch on that Zach and I were here, you know what'll happen." Jack spoke low, "You don't want to catch their interest. We were  _never here_."

"I understand," the Archon sighed, "speaking of whom, where is your friend…did he…?"

"He's okay," Jack nodded affirmatively, relieved that the man was now on the same page. "He's checking all the clone bodies outside to make sure they're dead."

"Why?"

"I don't know how, but Reaper bites do something weird to clones if they're not already dead. If you're a human and you get bitten, you'll be fine if you survive the attack…but clones come back wrong. They become Reapers too."

Jack placed a hand upon the Archon's shoulder and gripped it tightly, eager to emphasise the point. "That's why you've got to do exactly as I say. Give it another hour or two, and then get your strongest stomachs out here to clear out the dead. Take 'em a good half a mile from town, and then burn the bodies. You can't be too careful with these things. Understand?"

"I understand...wait…the train!" Mortensen gasped in shock. Jack clapped a hand to his head as his face went blank in horrified realisation – the supply train would have already been and gone, alerted by the station the moment that the clone squads went to engage the Reaper swarm. It had been at  _least_  forty five minutes since the swarm's arrival, so the vehicle would be miles away.

"Shit…" he hissed quickly, "I gotta go. Remember, burn the corpses."

It was as he hurriedly turned and made towards the door that he heard the familiar lilt of a little girl's voice behind him, along with the urgent tugging of the bottom hem of his sweater. Turning back, he lowered his gaze towards the confused, worried face of Elara staring right back up at him.

"Are you going, Jack?" she asked plaintively. The Ghost's eyes flicked up at Mortensen upon realising that she had spoken his true name – to which the portly man responded with a wink and motioned a finger across his lips as though closing a zip.

"Yeah, kiddo. I've got to go catch a train." he smiled as he knelt down to be at her level, trying to hide the impatience and urgency in his voice. Without warning, Elara surged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Be careful, Jack…" she whispered into his ear. Yep, his heart was officially a puddle of goo.

"I will." he murmured, and an idea struck him as he pulled away. Hiding one hand behind his back, he clenched it and let a fraction of his power resonate through his fingertips, creating something hard yet cold in his palm. Smiling, he moved his fist over to her and opened it to reveal a small, intricate snowflake resting happily upon his skin, just big enough to fit in her dainty little hand. Gasping, her eyes lit up like a starry sky as they rested upon the gift.

"Something just for you, to remember me by. It'll melt in a few days, but keep it secret, okay?" he murmured affectionately.

"Okay, Jack." she beamed as she delicately took the snowflake from his hand and held it close to her chest.

"See you later, kiddo." he chuckled as he rose to his feet, and allowing himself a quick ruffle of her hair, he turned once more towards the door, pulled it open and disappeared into the night.

Eugene was waiting for him, his arms crossed over his chest, and his right ankles resting on his left as he leaned on the Archon Hall's wall, his eyes gazing absentmindedly at the beige, sandy ground.

"We good?" Jack asked once the door closed and locked behind him. Brought back to earth by his voice, the scout pushed himself away from the wall and nodded affirmatively as he passed over the spatula and the clean dagger to the Ghost, who quickly stuffed them back into his bag, retrieved his goggles and slid them over his eyes.

"We're good. What happens now?" the natural brunette asked pointedly.

An evil smirk tore up his features as he slid back the sleeve of his sweater to reveal his bracer, unclipped the rod from its secure housing, and pressed the button to extend it to its full length.

"What happens now, princess, is…" he said as he cocked an eyebrow, eliciting the narrowing of his companion's eyes.

"…you hold tight."

* * *

 

Jack didn't know which he took more pleasure in; being able to soar in the night time sky, three thousand feet above the ground…or the fact that Eugene hated it.

It was a simple case of follow the glimmering lights of the electromagnetic 'rail track' that the train would obediently follow, the things that assisted in keeping the heavy carriages afloat on nothingness while inexorably leading it from A to B, much like the iron rails of old. Follow the lights, as it were.

Hilariously, or at least to the impish Ghost, Eugene spent the airborne journey clinging almost as tightly to his left side as Elara did, uttering whimpers of  _"arewethereyet" "pleasesaywe'rethere" "ohGoddon'tletmefall"_ over and over again like a mantra. Naturally as befitting the myth after whom his call sign was named, Jack took distinct and perverse pleasure in occasionally diving into free fall, thus forcing the poor scout to yell out in fright and terror, then summon the wind to carry them back up to three thousand feet. Every time he would dive, Eugene would squeal, and as soon as they levelled off the scout would angrily thump him in the back.

 _This is the guy that took out a Reaper like it was nothing, who can free-run almost as well as I can, who just needs to say "Hi" to have women in fits of shy giggles…and he's screaming like a little girl,_ Jack thought mischievously.

However, there was a very real danger that his ability to carry Eugene was dwindling. Nearly an hour of holding a seven year old girl had taken its toll on both arms, to the point that they felt like nothing but bones and pain, and it left him wondering two things: one, was all the relentless terrorising of Eugene really just a distraction from the sharp aches, and two…how long would it be before his right arm gave out?

Fortunately for him, fate seemed to throw them a bone.

Ever since they reached a comfortable height, "Baby Tooth" had zoomed his goggles' vision up to its limit in one lens which, while mildly disorienting in any other situation therefore a rarely used thing, proved to be quite handy when searching along tiny specks of light in the pitch black dark. As the cool wind whipped at his hair and caressed his skin like it was welcoming him home, Jack craned his head slightly downwards when his right eye noticed something incongruent to the pattern of parallel lights – a break of black, where two sets of lights would disappear at one end and reappear at the other.

His left lens confirmed it – they had found the train. It was travelling at a moderate, lazy speed, which told the Ghost that though it skipped the shift change in Settlement Six, the driver saw no reason to accelerate the vehicle and shorten their journey. Something that was directly beneficial, especially as they had no idea where it was going.

"Hey, Eugene?" Jack yelled, hoping he was audible over the rushing wind.

"What?!" the scout snapped.

"You might wanna keep your mouth shut," he advised loudly with a roguish lilt, "because your girly scream is gonna alert the guards."

Eugene's head darted up, "I do  _not_  scream like a little girl…wait…mouth shut? Guards? Oh-"

And then, laughing manically, Jack dived – forcing the scout to involuntarily cry one of the longest utterances of  _"shit"_ known to mankind.

Mercifully, halfway into the rather amusingly steep descent, the scout remembered that he had to shut the hell up so chose to bury his high-pitched squealing into Jack's left shoulder while his stomach ostensibly attempted to vacate the premises through his feet.

" _Aaaaaaaa-I'msogladyou'relaughingbecauseIamfuckingshittingmyself-aaaaaa!"_ Eugene let loose a string of incoherent words into Jack's sweater, which only intensified his glee.

Unfortunately – or fortunately, if you looked at it from Eugene's point of view – the steep nose dive was over in a matter of less than ten seconds as the ground rushed up to meet them, and as Jack levelled off in a completely and unnecessarily sharp manner – purely to get one last groan out of his wingman, of course – the pair quickly flew close to the side of the rearmost matt black carriage. Rapidly gliding less than four feet above the dry moorland as it dashed under them, Jack's head darted between the double sliding cargo doors to his left and the rest of the train ahead of them. Eugene, having finally regained control of his stomach, craned his head to watch the clone trooper as he lazily patrolled the roof, and once he stopped at the furthest end with his back to them, the Ghost felt an urgent set of taps on his torso that screamed  _"now!"_

With the air rushing past them, his breathing tight and his heart hammering with soaring adrenaline, Jack gently banked close to the cargo doors, and willed the wind to keep their speed up long enough for the scout to extend his left hand as far as it would go – and as Eugene wrapped his left fingers in a vice-like grip around the handle and yanked it as hard as he could from the catch, with fluidic grace Jack summoned a burst of speed, rushed through the opening and used his resultant momentum to swing the scout inside by his right hand.

Both men landed with pained grunts inside the carriage, illuminated by three bright lights in the centre of the ceiling; Jack crumpled against the steel tread plated floor while Eugene's back landed against the fixed metal shelving unit that ran the length of the carriage, knocking some of the stored objects off the edge with the force of the impact. Even mildly dazed by the less-than-graceful entry, Jack worked  _hard_ not to burst out in laughter as he watched a small cardboard box of pistol energy cells fall down and bounce off the yelping scout's head.

Both men took a brief moment to catch their breath, weary from the evening's events and enduring the nigh-perpetual buzz of adrenaline in their minds and bodies. As he rested his head against the wall behind him, slid the goggles onto his forehead and waited for his lungs to stop heaving breaths through his parted mouth, Jack mentally remarked upon the surreal manner of their entry. Most people waited patiently on platforms for the train to stop before they boarded, others chased after and held on to the outer handles for dear life. Flying parallel to a carriage and swinging oneself inside was certainly a novel experience.

In fact, it was something Eugene seemed to be thinking too as he grasped at the shelving unit to assist the rise to his feet, judging by the sarcastic, hoarse quip that left his lips.

"You know, we went to a helluva lot of trouble just to avoid buying a ticket…"

Jack stared blankly at him for a moment, before cracking up into fits of raucous laughter to the point that his entire body shuddered with mirth. Catching his eye, Eugene's lips quirked into a wide smirk as he too was wracked with chuckles, and he slowly shook his head at the completely bizarre situation.

A dull clang echoed through the carriage as, still chortling, Jack jabbed his staff into the floor in an effort to get up, but just as he swivelled his legs in order to rise to his knees Eugene's open hand appeared in his slightly blurry vision. Gratefully, the Ghost's left hand rose up and firmly grasped the scout's forearm and with an almighty and tired grunt, Eugene pulled him to his feet…

…and promptly punched him in his staff arm.

"Ow!" Jack yelped. His left hand shot up to protect the point of impact as he indignantly hissed, "What was  _that_ for?"

"That," Eugene glowered at him as he folded his arms, "was for being a dick."

Jack pulled an expression of mock-hurt as he rubbed the newly sore spot, an expression that became real-hurt as Eugene's right arm lashed out and thumped the area directly below his first target.

"Ow! Hey! What was  _that_  one for?" Jack cried as his body automatically shrank away.

"Being even  _more_  of a dick." Eugene grunted with annoyance, and promptly followed up with a Kristoff-style slap round the back of Jack's skull.

"And  _that_  was for saying I scream like a little girl." he snapped.

"Oh come on!" Jack hissed, "That was funny!"

Eugene scowled deeply. "Like hell it was, and I swear on Agatha's glorious metal body that if you tell anyone about it…"

"Fine, fine. I won't tell a soul…" Jack muttered, and flinched when Eugene pulled his open hand back ready to administer yet more physical justice. "Seriously, I won't!"

"Good," the scout snapped grumpily as he turned to slowly slide the cargo door shut, "you'd better not. Anyway, let's get this show on the road. Rails. Whatever."

Caught between schadenfreude-derived chuckles, and rubbing at the stinging sensations in his right arm and head, Jack busied himself with perusing the nine rectangular crates that were tightly secured to the wall. Jet black with silver trim, each crate was four feet long and firmly locked by a digital fingerprint reader in the centre – thereby dissuading any curious eyes. What did interest Jack, however, was the printed text on the bottom right.

_ER-4 STUN RIFLES (9) – HANDLE WITH CARE_

Nine rectangular crates, each containing nine stun rifles – meaning eighty one of the energy projectile weapons were stored. Not only that, but the crates themselves looked brand new…which gave the Ghost a disquieted sensation that the tools of battle held inside were fresh off the line.

"Found anything?" he heard Eugene ask behind him.

"Guns. Lots of guns." Jack answered, and then turned to face his companion who was busy examining the shelving unit. "What about you?"

"Um…" the scout answered noncommittally, and then tapped each of the cardboard boxes in a row as he counted under his breath, "five power cells per box…twenty boxes per shelf…twelve shelves in total…we're looking at  _twelve hundred_  power cells for pistols and rifles here, just on this unit." He finished, resting his hands on his hips.

"The hell does Unity want with so many cells?" Jack gaped as he moved over to stand by his ally. Eugene merely shrugged.

"Could be just stockpiling for a rainy day. Here," the scout said as he picked a few boxes off the shelves, "pretty sure they won't miss three or four of them. Might come in handy."

Jack nodded numbly as he took the boxes one by one and stuffed them into his bag, which by now was starting to feel little full. For all they knew Eugene could be right; it could be a simple case of Unity's military organising their weapons and ammunition into one place for ease, but it didn't dissuade the feeling of uncertainty prickling at his gut.

Another thing that played on Jack's mind was time; to go through and inspect each individual carriage – bar the two personnel ones, of course – would take a while. Given that they had no knowledge of the train's destination and whether it was five minutes or five hours away, spending valuable minutes examining everything was something they could ill-afford. They needed something to condense the search.

"Cargo manifest." the Ghost voiced his resultant epiphany out loud.

Eugene's eyes flicked up as he frowned. "Huh?"

"Unity is really organised when it comes to moving things like food, weapons et cetera, right? With all this stuff, they should have a cargo manifest to keep track of it – probably on a data tablet or something." Jack explained.

"Gotcha. I didn't see one in here. Maybe in the next carriage?" Eugene offered, shrugging lightly. Jack hummed in agreement, and the two men abandoned their examination of the power cells and made their way to the connecting carriage doors, both stumbling slightly as the train passed over a raised set of electromagnetic repulsor rail generators. Decades on, and a train ride could still be bumpy.

Eugene slid open the thick door, plunging the once quiet environment into a haze of rushing noise, and as he darted his head out to check above him in case the clones were nearby, his brunette hair whipped every which way with the rapidly swirling wind around him. Satisfied they were safe to proceed, he stepped over the gap onto the other carriage, slid open the door and went inside, with Jack following suit as soon as he closed the previous door behind him.

A dull clank rendered the second carriage in a similar state of silence, and a brief glance of the cargo crates told Jack the obvious – different part of the train, different contents. Instead of nine rectangular crates there were fifteen cube cases secured with heavy duty straps to the wall, and in place of the shelving unit lay several black, lock-less steel crates stacked three high and six long, with one all alone at the furthest end. Nothing much to catch his interest, but what  _did_  alert his attention was the small square of faint light on the opposite wall of the carriage – a data tablet, resting in a thin steel rack.

"That's probably what you're looking for," Eugene observantly spoke, gesturing towards the light, "I'll have a closer look at these boxes while you do some light reading."

Nodding once, Jack made his way through the long, wide and ordered carriage towards the tablet, and once close enough he rested his staff against the closest corner, yanked the glass square from its housing and began to read aloud. "Okay…behind door number four we have…"

 _CARRIAGE SEVEN -_  
_81 ER-4 STUN RIFLES_  
_1200 POWER CELLS_

"Eleven hundred and seventy." Eugene corrected him as he inspected the lone crate.

"Thank you, Captain Pedantic." Jack muttered snarkily.

"You're welcome, Sergeant Sarcasm." the scout quipped in return. "Anyway, we already know that, so come on—make with the story."

Jack rolled his eyes, and traced his finger up the glass tablet to scroll the text along.

 _CARRIAGE SIX -_  
_144 HELA CLASS FUEL CELLS_  
_50 EXPLOSIVE BREACHING CHARGES (HANDLE WITH EXTREME CARE)_

"Fuel cells, you say? One hundred and forty four of them, you say?" Eugene looked up from the crate, a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eye as he spoke jovially.

"That's what it says, darling." Jack chuckled as he winked.

Eugene assumed an expression of theatrical mock-thought as he laced his fingers under his goatee. "Well, what do you say we…relieve them of a few, dear? Anything we can use to carry them in that manifest of yours?"

"Uh…" Jack made a non-committal noise as he quickly scrolled through the details, "Carriage three. Should be a bunch of empty heavy duty bags."

"Okay, honeybun." Eugene announced as he made an exaggerated turn towards the connecting door, "I shall return shortly. Don't go anywhere!" he finished with a high pitched lilt.

"I won't." Jack shook his head as he sniggered. "Be careful, snookums!"

Eugene burst into dirty chuckles as he slid open the door, drowning Carriage Six in the cacophony of rushing wind for a few seconds before closing it behind him. Still chortling, Jack returned his attention to the tablet and skimmed through for any interesting details.

The presence of breaching charges was perplexing, he thought, as he quickly read the tablet's contents. Unity's apprehension of abnormals usually consisted of literally applying a boot to a door, so using explosives to gain entry to a person's property – or rather,  _Unity's_  property – was a little on the redundant side.

Besides, even if the secret police decided to be polite and knocked, residents were lawfully obliged to grant access to them.

Another thing that puzzled him, below the record of ten crates of clone soldier combat vests, was the presence of a paragraph at the bottom of the cargo manifest, a portion of text that was lower case lettering rather than screaming capital letters, preceded by the word  _Important Information._

_Due to a logistical error caused in part by a metalworking drone's malfunction, the order for the six 12'x8' unidium letters "A", "E", "H", "M"(x2), "R" has been delayed, and regretfully will have to be included on the manifest for the next scheduled train. Please be assured that they will be manufactured as quickly as humanly possible in time for the next supply train in two weeks._

"Why are you making letters?" Jack muttered softly as he scratched his head, and his mind began to automatically rearrange the letters like he was solving an anagram puzzle. However, further thought on the subject was quite comprehensively jarred when the floor jerked and shuddered under his feet, forcing the once happily resting staff to clatter against the steel tread, and in a flash of realisation he knew that it was slowing down.

Distinctly worried by the new development, he quickly shoved the tablet back into the rack, replaced his goggles over his eyes and darted over to the cargo entrance to confirm his suspicions, and with an almighty wrench of one of the heavy doors he peered out into the night.

"Baby Tooth; zoom in with both lenses, please." he spoke, hoping he was audible over the wind.

The software twittered in his earpiece in response, and the vision in his right lens shot forward to match his left, revealing a brightly lit outpost less than forty five seconds away. Several squads of clone troopers waited patiently on the right platform along with a group of three people wearing what looked like officer's uniforms, clutching square objects that looked suspiciously like glass tablets.

He breathed a small sigh of relief at the knowledge that they had not reached the train's final stop – if they had, then escaping in secret and more importantly  _alive_  would have been impossible – but still felt a surge of worry. Even if it was merely an outpost, the presence of the squads indicated a new shift change to compensate for the ones lost in Settlement Six, and the three officers were there to inspect the cargo.

Oddly, he didn't really give a crap that they'd notice some things were missing, but  _did_  give a crap as to whether or not he and Eugene were still on board at the time.

The connecting door slid open and startled the young Ghost, forcing his head to shoot over to the source of the noise as he whipped the staff in front of him in a defensive posture.

"Hey!" Eugene said as he held his hands in surrender, "I come in peace!"

Jack rolled his eyes as he sighed in relief, and he slid the goggles onto his forehead while his stance relaxed.

"I noticed we're slowing down, why?" the scout asked as he scurried over to the lone crate, unclasped the lid and was instantly bathed in an orange hue.

"Outpost up ahead. Shift change. Cargo inspection."

Eugene froze midway through plucking one of the glowing cylinders from its safe place, and swallowed thickly. "How long?"

Jack returned his gaze to the oncoming problem, held his right hand flat in front of him and wiggled it. "Thirty seconds." he guessed, and upon hearing the estimation, Eugene's eyes went wide as he promptly went about his task with a great deal more efficiency and haste.

The  _vum-vum_  sound of the repulsor generators keeping the train afloat passed under them with lessening frequency as the line of carriages curved into its final approach, and the doors of the two troop holds ahead opened in anticipation.

"Twenty seconds." Jack said loudly, as impatience grew within his chest.

"Yeah, yeah!" Eugene snapped as he plucked out another cell and shoved it into the bag, completely oblivious to the fact that they were getting dangerously close to being visible from the platform.

They were running out of both time, and track.

"Ten seconds! Come on, we've got enough, let's go!" Jack hissed as he heard the clunk of the crate's lid being slammed shut, and as a large patch of tall, wild grass advanced temptingly upon him, he turned and lunged out his right arm, grasped Eugene's tunic and bodily pulled the yelping, bag-clutching scout towards the door and out of the carriage into the night.

Both men landed inside the patch of grass with a pair of anguished  _oofs_ , the momentum causing them to break into a dizzying roll for a short distance across the ground and kick up a small cloud of dusty soil, and in a brief moment of fearful clarity amidst a brain that felt like it was still ricocheting inside his skull, Jack panicked that their landing had been spotted – especially when he noticed that, while Eugene seemed to luckily still be inside the patch of grass, the fact that he was flat on his back with an unobstructed view of the sky meant he was decidedly  _not_.

Gasping for air and with his heart thumping like it was trying to break free, he scrambled on his elbows and heels back into the natural green cover and tried to catch his breath. Waiting for the inevitable alarm to be raised, he did a quick mental check of his body; undoubtedly he would be the proud owner of a few bruises on his right shoulder, elbow, hip and knee to go with the two given to him by his oh-so-considerate ally, and the stinging sensation on his entire right side told him that he was sporting quite a few grazes too.

Eugene winced to the Ghost's left, his face mildly screwed as he gingerly stroked his right upper arm, probably suffering the effects just like Jack was. He moved his hand to tap on his ally's left shoulder hoping to get his attention.

"You okay, Eugene?" he murmured. The scout nodded slowly.

"Yeah, it's just…" he began, but trailed off in a hiss.

"Just what?"

"…I'm never catching a train with you for as…long as I live." Eugene finished, wincing. Jack shot him a frown.

"Why'd you say that? I'm hurt and offended." the Ghost gasped in mock offense.

"Why? Let me think; the average mortality rate of someone in our occupation…sixty percent; around you – ninety five." Eugene grumbled with deep sarcasm.

"Hey!" Jack chuckled.

"An argument could be made for ninety..." The scout offered humorously.

"Prick." Jack snarked.

"Ass." Eugene retorted.

Both men caught each other's eyes and stared for a few seconds in mildly incredulous silence, but eventually something gave in Jack's chest and he burst into silent, wracking laughter – and judging by the muffled sniggers that came from his left, so did his friend. Both men let the tension of the evening be washed away in uncontrollable mirth, from the moment they heard the shrieking to the instant they burst into childish giggles. It all left their bodies, leaving only peace, good humour and lashings of fatigue.

And the best part? They heard neither panicked shouting nor cacophonous sirens; therefore the alarm had not been raised. They were safe.

"Think they…saw us?" Eugene managed amidst heavy chortles.

"Nah…" Jack choked through his sniggering as he pulled himself to a seated position in order to peer at the outpost's activity, "someone would have flipped their shit by now. We should probably get going before they notice the ammo cells are missing, though."

Eugene nodded as he awkwardly rose to his knees, and gestured lamely towards the bright lights where the clone soldiers previously on board the train were in the middle of disembarking. "It looks like they're doing the changeover, so it might be worth making a move. Are we flying Air Frost again?"

Jack violently shook his head as he jabbed his staff into the ground, and with a pained grunt used it for leverage to climb upright. "Hell no. I'm fucking wiped, and I can't carry you  _and_  that bag of fuel cells. You're a lot heavier than you look, you know?"

"I had a big breakfast." Eugene quipped as he patted his stomach.

"Big something, alright." the Ghost snickered, turning to begin the long journey back to Settlement Six and the jeep within.

"Why, thank you for noticing. Although…when did you look to notice it was big?" Eugene smirked as he walked by Jack's side – and yelped as the dyed brunette promptly clapped him round the back of his head.

* * *

 

_Time: 01:24_

" _So what did you guys find?"_ Anna asked over the radio connection.

It took a solid two hours to walk back to Eugene's hover jeep in the outskirts of Settlement Six – though, Jack considerably shortened the journey by taking them on a short burst of flight whenever he felt the energy – and a further hour to travel towards and ascend the nearest hill so he could check in with the  _Star._

Only, it wasn't the  _Star_  any more, though Anna assured him that the aircraft carrier was still there. It was  _Sanctuary._ Something told him that it would be a while before he got used to that.

Jack spent that hour in the jeep attempting to process the night's events, but he knew there was no way in hell he was awake enough to do it, so most of the time was spent snoozing in the passenger's seat. Eugene, mercifully, seemed to be wide awake…though the many instances of a hand connecting with a cheek had told him that even the hardy scout was running out of steam.

Once at the apex of the hill to the east of Settlement Six, Jack had taken the time to lay on the hover jeep's hood with his back against the wind shield and contact home base in order to relay their findings as well as get their next orders, while Eugene had chosen to sharpen Anna's wedding present with a whetstone he retrieved from the jeep's trunk –  _"An essential survival tool,"_ the scout had reminded him,  _"you can't shank a clone with a blunt blade"._

Jack had to admit, he was right.

Anna was the one on duty that night – despite being located in a secret underground base, the Ghosts still observed their shift routines…old habits die hard, Jack had silently remarked – and as soon as he called in, within a few seconds he heard her bright, jovial but slightly tired voice resonate her excited greeting through his earpiece like a warm reminder of home.

It then occurred to him how much he missed his best friend. Sure, Eugene was a hell of a guy, an exceedingly skilful warrior and someone he could trust with his life, but Anna knew things about him that no-one else knew. He could always talk to her, and always received the good and honest truth of any matter. She kept him at the top of his game when sparring, pranking, and practising his powers, and he deeply regretted not being there in person when Kristoff proposed.

If he wanted a hug from Neve, he  _needed_  one from Anna.

Yet, her voice would have to suffice.

"Crates and crates of rifles, pistols, breaching charges, electric batons…boxes of ammo cells…there was even a carriage full of fuel cells. Before you ask—yes, we picked up a few."

" _What do you think they're doing all that stuff?"_ she asked, puzzled.

"Could be nothing, could be anything. They might be just moving stuff from one place to the other…" he trailed off as he stared at the cloudless, diamond-studded inky black sky.

" _You don't sound convinced, Frost."_  Anna said pointedly – another reason they were best friends. She knew him too well.

"I'm not. I can't escape the feeling that they're preparing for something. Those rifles…I'm pretty sure they're fresh off the line, and what use do they have for breaching charges? They just kick doors in." he rambled.

" _I agree. Sounds like it's big, whatever it is. Think they're stocking up for an offensive against the Alliance?"_ she wildly conjected.

"I hope not," Jack muttered, "otherwise it's the end of the world as we know it…a fourth world war."

Silence reigned over the comms line, a tangible, pregnant silence that could be cut with a knife or ten. Both Ghosts subjected themselves to the morbid, drowning thoughts of yet another conflict, one that would most likely mean the end of the human race. The skies would burn; cities would turn to ash...

…everyone would die.

"Hammer…" he said absentmindedly, forgetting that during the conversation, his subconscious had been at work unscrambling the anagram.

" _Say what?"_  Anna questioned, bewildered by the non sequitur.

"On the train's manifest, they said that the letters A, E, H, M, M, and R had been delayed. I didn't have time to work it out, but it just occurred to me – those letters spell the word 'Hammer'. Said they were also twelve feet by eight. Think it's connected?"

" _Dunno. They sound pretty big, though. Hammer…hammer…"_ Anna said, trailing off before adopting a tone of forced brightness that nonetheless uplifted and distracted the Ghost,  _"anyway! I got orders from Harvester for when you got back in touch tonight. He said that you and Eugene were to check out our weapons and gear caches on the western side of the continent, and in a month's time you are to signal Night Fury to come pick you guys up from wherever he dropped you off last time! Isn't that awesome?"_

"Hell yeah." Jack cheered in spite of the overwhelming tiredness.

" _I know, right? I mean, the wedding is in two months, and there is no way I'm going through with it if you're not going to be there."_

"Why not? I mean, of course I'm gonna be there, but why not?" Jack frowned.

" _You're the one giving me away, idiot!"_ she squealed.

"…I'm what?" Jack gaped aloud.

" _Well…with Papa not around anymore, and Snow White doing the ceremony…Frost, you're my best friend. There's no-one I'd rather want to give me away to my husband-to-be, than my best friend."_

Jack fell silent for a short time. He didn't know what it was, whether it was the inherent exhaustion, the happiness at hearing Anna's voice again or how emotionally weighted her words were, but he found himself to be nursing a rather large lump in his throat as he felt two tears slide down from his squinted eyes.

" _Of course, I could always ask Pitch…"_ she offered, intentionally trailing off as she knew  _damn_  well he would react to that.

"Go to hell," he choked, "I swear to God I will be there, even if I have to drop Flynn in the ocean."

An indignant  _"hey!"_  reached his ears from somewhere in the hover jeep's back seat.

" _Great! I mean…you don't have to drop him…wait, are you okay Frost?"_ she cooed with concern.

"Yeah," he croaked as he wiped away the single tears from under his eyes, "I just…I just miss you. I want to come home, if I'm honest. Today's been a shitty day."

" _Aww, I miss you too, Frostbite! You sure you don't wanna come home now? I don't think Night Fury will mind…"_

"Nah…" Jack chuckled, knowing full well that Hiccup was as grumpy as Kozmotis when he did not receive enough sleep, "I'll be okay. Harvester wants me to check out the caches, so that's what we'll do. I promise you, though; I  _will_ be there to give you away."

" _You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that. Anyway, it's gotta be something like half one in the morning for you two, so go get some sleep. Talk more tomorrow, okay?"_ Anna said in something that sounded suspiciously like an order.

"Okay, you win. Goodnight, Streak."

" _Night, Frost."_

There was a click as she ended the communication link on her end, and Jack was left with the overwhelming ache of absence in his chest, along with a slight bout of nausea to go with the silence. It was true, he missed her a lot. He missed sparring with her, joking with her, sometimes tag-team-pranking Kozmotis with her.

The sooner this mission was over, the better, in his mind.

He heard the clearing of a throat from behind him, and with a lot more effort than usual he twisted his head to observe through the wind shield the scout that was casually laid in the rear seat of the convertible jeep, his feet resting upon the door on one side while his head rested on the other, scraping the whetstone against the blade.

"What?" the scout asked, pausing his ministrations.

"Shut up." Jack snapped grumpily.

"I didn't say a word!"

"You were going to. You had that look." Jack said.

"What look?" the scout protested in a slightly high pitched voice.

"The look your face gets when you're about to say something incredibly stupid." Jack said curtly.

"I have no idea what you are referring to," the scout objected, "I was just going to say-"

"Ah!" Jack held up a finger.

"-that I-"

"AH!"

"-thought-"

"Ah-ah!" Jack practically shouted.

"-that it was really sweet to hear how much you two care for each other." Eugene finished hastily, enduring a rapid babbling of  _"ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-what?"_

"I'm serious! Although…"

"…what?" Jack muttered, his eyes narrowing.

"It does confirm my suspicion that you're a total softie!" Eugene laughed.

Unfortunately for the scout, his mirth was sharply cut short by a yelp as the end of Jack's staff reprimanded his head.

"You're such a moment-killer, Eugene." Jack sighed exasperatedly, as he drew back the staff from the scowling brunette's head.

* * *

 

Stood in the darkened living room of his wealthy house, the walls decorated with various paintings of his family in military uniforms, a blue-hued Hans gazed unemotionally at the video recording, taken from security cameras hidden in the top corners of the supply train's carriages. He had suggested it almost as soon as the journeys began, and was pleased to see that though it was only recently they had been installed, the efforts already bore fruit.

Juicy fruit, like the presence of two men in the fuel cell carriage as one inspected the lone crate's contents while the other perused the cargo manifest tablet. With the presence of the Ghosts' signature goggles on his forehead along with the messy hair, even in a blue and white hue the commander could tell that he was Frost, and the other was "Flynn", the last living member of the almost extinct Scout Team Red, that the one known as "Sneak" babbled about.

As he slid his gloves from his fingers and tossed them upon his personal Uni-Com's desk – he rarely went to sleep before two in the morning, there was too much work to be done for him to waste time on such a frivolous pursuit – he placed two fingers at opposing corners of the recording and increased its size just as Flynn stood up and walked out of shot, leaving Frost to examine the tablet for a short time before scratching his head.

"When did this happen?" he asked.

" _Approximately three hours ago. The supply train was supposed to stop in Settlement Six for a shift change…but due to a Reaper attack, it continued on to the next outpost. We think they were going to board the train when it stopped, but the changing circumstances forced their rather…innovative entry."_ the image of Jafar explained, hovering at the top right of the Uni-Com's screen.

Hans frowned. "You said  _'we think'_ …has anyone else seen this?"

" _I apologise, Commander. I misspoke – no-one else has seen this but us."_  Jafar offered in a smooth, silky voice.

Hans glanced up at the text situated just above the Inquisitor's image –  _SECURE LINE-0024-L._ He breathed an inaudible sigh of relief through his nose, and imperceptibly nodded to himself as he laced his gloveless hands behind his back.

"Keep it that way, Inquisitor." He ordered. Jafar's brows furrowed as his eyes widened a small margin.

" _But…those men are the enemy, surely we should hunt them? I think we should take this matter seriously-"_  the image protested.

"Really?" Hans interrupted, "I don't. These two men, they pose no danger. They are no threat. If you are going to worry every time there's a minor problem, then we may as well walk away now."

" _But…what if they find out?"_

"They won't. I receive a personal update every time a train leaves for Project Chimera – the only things that this particular supply train transported are things that could easily be explained as a routine relocation of weapons and ammunition. Be calm, my friend. They," Hans smiled, gesturing at the recording, just as Frost yanked Flynn out of the carriage, "know nothing."

" _I still think we should inform the Valkyries. They can easily run down and capture these two…freaks."_  Jafar muttered.

"Oh, they could. Elsa is a very intelligent, clever woman when she is not possessed by vengeance. Which is why I will not tell them, and neither will you. They will play their part in due time." Hans soothed. Jafar opened his mouth to complain once more, and feeling the need to end the conversation, Hans endeavoured to cut him off.

"Our plans have not changed, Jafar. Nothing has changed. You will bury this recording, alter the evidence of their theft, and you will contact me with the information you procured at the agreed time. Until then, we proceed as normal. Is that clear?"

" _Crystal. Is Henrik still unaware?"_  Jafar asked, and the commander still detected a wavering note of caution in the Inquisitor's voice.

"He is. My idiot brother still believes we are two weeks behind schedule, and will not be reachable on the day our plans come into effect. He has a...family gathering planned in Zone Fifty. Glorious sunshine, clear blue seas…naturally I will be unavailable at the time."

The thin-bearded man nodded slowly and affirmatively.  _"And the abnormals?"_

Hans glanced back down to the recording, which had started from the beginning. Frost and Flynn had collapsed on the floor, and were in the grips of deep, silent laughter…and as though infected with their mirth, the auburn-haired commander let quiet, slow chuckles escape from his lips.

"They will never see us coming."

* * *

  _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_   _ **02:17:20:23:05**_

* * *

 

 


	21. The Hammer of Unity

_Location: Unknown_   
_Date: October 7th, 2073_   
_Time: 22:10_

Elsa felt only heat; glorious, fiery, all-encompassing heat that spread from her tightening stomach and thudding chest to fill every inch of her body. A fire that burned away her inhibitions, incinerated her restraint and razed her thoughts to the ground – save for one.

The electrifyingly pleasurable sensations of Frost's hungry kisses against her exposed, offered neck as she sat at the edge of the kitchen counter, moaning uncontrollably and panting for breath, her thighs apart as though to welcome him in, and her ankles crossed to trap him there.

She wasn't entirely sure how it happened, although she had a fleeting thought that it had been building for some time. One minute, they had just walked through the front door into a safe house she did not recognise, after a raid she did not remember. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, and post-victory euphoria ebbed and flowed through her mind like an intoxicant.

One glance, one fortuitously timed turn of the head, one fleeting connection of cerulean sky and cobalt blue was all it took – and the next minute, their lips had met in a passionate and breathless kiss, she had thrown her arms around his neck and laced her fingers in his soft white hair to keep him there, and he had bodily lifted her against him and dropped her on the counter.

"Right here?" he murmured in between sucking at the skin directly on her jawline, while his fingers nimbly unbuttoned her black combat pants.

"Here, there, everywhere… _fuck…_ the bedroom, the floor, I don't care." she gasped down another moan as his lips moved to just under her ear and pressed hard. She pulled his head back by the hair entwined in her fingers, and stared with mindless want into the pools of piercing blue.

"I want you, Frost. I want you  _now_." she breathed, and sealed her order with a crash of her reddened and swollen lips against his. His tongue darted between her lips in a silent request for access, which she happily gave with a widening of her jaw. His fingers worked at the base of her black tank top while hers adeptly undid the button to his pants, and with a feminine grunt she slid those same fingers under the elastic of his boxer shorts and pushed both them  _and_  his pants down in one go.

He sharply broke the kiss to a flash of her anger and disappointment, if only to deprive her of her tank top. She felt her braid slap against her shoulder while he pulled it over her face and tossed the garment aside, stood back from her and gazed hungrily over her topless form – and in amidst the heat burning her from the inside alternating against the cool air caressing her exposed breasts and hardened nubs, she felt a flash of unwelcome self-consciousness under the searing want in his gaze. Her expression faltering into shyness, her cheeks and ears flushed a deep crimson as her arms instinctively tried to wrap themselves across her chest out of embarrassment – but she wanted it to happen. She wanted him so, so much. So she mentally forced her fingers into the waist of her pants, rolled back onto the base of her spine to ease their removal and tossed them to somewhere she didn't care.

Frost blinked a few times, startled as though suddenly reminded that  _this-was-actually-happening_. Elsa bit her bottom lip in the failed effort to stymie a smirk, and an even poorer effort to stifle a cheeky giggle at his newly-rendered vacancy. He narrowed his eyes as if to say  _"I'll make you pay for that"_  to which she deepened the smirk in addition to cocking a single eyebrow, as if to say  _"Promise?"_

His breath visibly hitched, and with a speed that surely broke records had they still existed, he yanked off his tank top to join her in glorious nudity and surged forward into her waiting lips. Her fingertips revelled in the sensation of his cold skin under them, deepening the fire that burned within. She wrapped her legs around him to trap him once more – she had him now, there was no going back. His hands groped at her buttocks and pulled her closer to the edge in both senses of the phrase, and busied themselves with sending uncontrollable shivers through her body as they drove themselves up along her spine, eliciting moans of pleasure that erupted from her throat and were swallowed by his.

He leaned down and returned his attention to her neck, planting hard kisses that left behind a trail of moistness that almost  _froze_  the second his lips moved away, and tingles shot from the parts of her skin caressed by his cool, enticing breath. As her fingers satisfied themselves with exploring every inch of his chest, her eyes closed with pleasure and indulgence, she thought to herself how perfect he was to her. His athletically toned body – not overly muscular like the soldiers in training, but defined in a way that showed experience in combat and movement, muscles that contracted under her touch. She thought of his quick wit and his sense of loyalty, the fact that if you earned his trust, his friendship and his love, he would always be there for you.

She counted herself fortunate to be the one who received those looks that no other person did.

Her thoughts were broken as she felt something hard press against her clit, its wetness mingling happily with hers, and even the slightest touch sent bursts of electric pleasure through her body and caused her to gasp and whimper with need. He pulled back, staring down with his half-a-head advantage in height, panting heavily.

"Ready?" he whispered breathlessly, and dizzy with wanton desire and the need to take it further, she barely registered the question.

"Yes." she answered simply, and with her heart threatening to burst with how hard it was punching her ribcage, her breaths coming in ragged inhalations and exhalations, and her skin unable to touch any more of him than it already could, she entwined her left fingers in his hair and slid her right hand to the base of his spine – taking pleasure at his shudders, naturally – and prepared herself for his entry. She felt him slide down from her clit to her entrance and without ceremony or pause – he pushed.

Her eyes shot open as she gasped sharply, feeling the intrusion so acutely that it destroyed all other thoughts but the feeling of his length inside her. He paused for a moment, waiting for her core's muscles to accommodate him. Her breath came in ragged bursts while stars shot across her vision, and the fire in her abdomen took on a whole new intensity – but she wanted more. She needed more, and judging by the almost pleading edge to the dark look in his eyes, Frost did too.

"Are you going to move," she husked, "or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?"

Frost smirked in response, and in what felt like revenge for her mild insult, he slid further inside her. Their lips barely touched, dizzy with each other's breath as he slowly moved in and out, and her walls contracted hard against him. She felt full and complete; as though he was touching parts of her she never thought anyone could. Sure, the kitchen counter wasn't the best place to make love and facilitated a mildly awkward angle, but when you're mindless with passion and desire, any surface will do.

Her back arched as his movements slowly increased in speed, their naked, entwined forms slick with sweat. Pants and huffs filled the otherwise empty room in accordance with his thrusts, her breasts flushed with red stroked against his toned chest with both need and her own reactionary bucking of her hips, revelling in both the intense storm of pleasure inside her and the magnetic tingles in the touch of skin upon skin. Kisses were stolen in between gasps for breath, tongues danced with hunger, and every so often he would heighten her experience by driving his lips to the crook of her neck, sucking and nibbling hard.

Over time his thrusts became quicker, and his face screwed up in concentration as he started to mutter indiscernible things under his breath against her neck, and she giggled at the knowledge that he was only doing  _that_  so she could orgasm first.

Ever the gentleman.

And his restraint – the depth and speed of his thrusts not lending themselves to this – was to be paid off. The fire that had slowly been building in her abdomen, fuelling the electric storm of full, tight pleasure in her core approached uncontrollable levels, and her gasps became loud and gleeful cries in response. Her fingers dug themselves into his scalp and his back, preparing her for the inevitable explosion that would soon come. He sensed the change in her, ostensibly by how she began uttering his name with delight and how her core contracted mercilessly around his length – and she  _knew_  it was only making his job harder.

The fire built and built, her breaths deepened, her dizziness threatened to overcome her mind as her vision started to explode with bright, twinkling lights, and as he whispered her name in her ear she felt herself reach a screaming, all-encompassing orgasm that would surely burn through every single inch of her sweating, shuddering body….

* * *

 

"Ma'am? Are you okay?"

With a startled gasp, Elsa's eyes snapped open as she jerked awake with a start, her head quickly vacating its place of rest against the car window. Her breaths came in short, quick bursts as her heart thumped against her ribcage, and in her disorientation she blinked a few times in an attempt to will away the post-nap fuzziness and return to the world of the real and living.

Once the haze cleared, a quick mental assessment of her surroundings informed her that she was exactly where she remembered herself to be before giving in to the temptation for a crafty snooze; sat on one of the cream, faux-leather back passenger seats of a luxury hover-car on its way to a destination she didn't know.

She closed her eyes as she attempted to push past the fuzz and recall her reason for being in the car in the first place. Yes, that was it – she had received a genial message at six in the evening from Commander Larsen, requesting her presence at an undisclosed location in zone twenty seven. Naturally, she immediately queried – at least, as much as she could knowing that Larsen was her superior – the timing of such a request and the location she would be travelling to, under the assumption that she would be making her own way. She remembered how his lips curled into that knowing smile of his that she never did trust even after all these years, and replied that a car would be arriving shortly to pick her up, in addition to suggesting that she wear something appropriate for a surprise.

Needless to say, sensing the heavy suggestion that she should do so, she accepted the invitation and elected for something neutral yet intimidating on the off chance that Commander Larsen's invitation was not  _'on the level'_ , as it were – her military dress uniform. Black pants and a similarly coloured dress jacket over a white shirt, with the name  _SNOWFIELD_  adorning a badge on her right breast, three medals of victory on the left, and both upper sleeves sporting the iconic Valkyrie logo of a pure white sword pointing downwards with wings spreading up from its handle. With her platinum blonde hair tied in a pristine bun and minimal make up as per the regulations, she looked the epitome of feminine military perfection…

…except, of course, for the moistness that was spreading between her legs as a direct result of her previously slumbering mind's flight of fancy. Her awareness quickly returning to her, she thanked the designer of the dress uniform for their colour choice – wet spots of  _that_  nature would be infinitely easier to hide than if you were a man, though she had a sneaking suspicion that if she  _were_  a man, no-one would blink an eye to the bulge of a raging erection under those pants.

' _Conceal, don't feel'_ was a religious mantra for many years, and it sure as hell applied in that moment, especially when she became aware of how her right hand was hidden under her service cap, resting somewhere it definitely should not be – and a wave of nausea hit when she realised she might have been unconsciously getting herself off to her enemy making love to her.

"Ma'am?" the voice that stirred her from her dreaming state reappeared again, and her eyes moved over to the rear view mirror of the vehicle where the driver, a young corporal, was eyeing her with concern. She stared for a few seconds into the reflection hoping that the foundation was hiding the light blush in her cheeks, and that she had not displayed anything…inappropriate…during her nap.

"Yes, Corporal?" she said in a voice with  _slightly_  too high a pitch.

"I was asking if you were okay, Ma'am, that's all." he answered calmly. Elsa narrowed her eyes a small margin at the thinly veiled crinkle in the reflection of his gaze.

"I'm fine, Corporal. I was simply having a…a nightmare." she explained, forcing as much of a flat and emotionless tone as possible into her voice.

"Are you sure, Ma'am? You seemed to be really-" he began, but with her cheeks instantly filled with a burning crimson that spread to her ears, Elsa mercilessly cut him off.

"If you wish to be promoted at any point in your career, or if you wish to even  _have_  a career in the military from this moment on, I strongly suggest you choose your next words very,  _very_  carefully." she snapped haughtily, glaring pure fire into the pair of eyes staring back at her. Eyes that were once crinkled with amusement, now widened with shock.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am! Sorry, M-Ma'am!" he sputtered, and quickly returned his gaze to the road ahead.

Elsa took a deep, calming breath in through her nose and out of her mouth while she vigilantly eyed the rear view mirror in case the driver uttered any other stupid remarks, and satisfied that her cheeks were no longer in danger of bursting aflame she moved her gaze to the tinted windows at the darkened countryside that passed, with the occasional upturned and burnt-out car providing a break in the black. She remembered asking the driver how long the journey would take before they even left, and his answer was  _"at least four hours, ma'am"_. She glanced at the digital clock situated just above the glass that separated her from the corporal – ten-fifteen. A possible three quarters of an hour remained of their journey, and as the minutes dragged on in an uncomfortable silence punctuated by the tapping of her service cap with her fingers, she decided that something to break up the atmosphere was sorely needed.

"Put on the radio, please." she ordered, and with a hasty  _"yes ma'am"_ , the corporal complied.

"… _and I say: WHAT unidium shortage? No such thing! Lies and counter-propaganda spread by Alliance scum and abnormal freaks hoping to fracture our glorious society…"_

Elsa recognised the mildly mechanical voice as belonging to Iago, the loud-mouthed, rambling, quick-tempered Uni-Radio host whose rants and public service announcements were a thing of beauty to some, and ear-bleeding nonsense to others. Elsa strongly disliked both his voice and his material, preferring instead the elegant tones of Unitas' classical repertoire.

"… _I tell ya, we should round 'em all up and throw 'em to Canada! Let the Reapers deal with the traitors! There is_ nothing _that can break our resolve or our loyalty to the Unifier! I've been Iago, and thank y'all for listening!"_

"Good riddance…" Elsa muttered under her breath, just as Cynthia graced the car's interior with her comparatively beautiful, software-created voice.

" _Thank you, Iago, for yet another illuminating opinion segment. We now return to our Events of Interest section, where last month a settlement in zone twenty six was rescued from potential disaster…"_

Elsa's ears began to switch off.

"… _due to the fortuitous presence of two men named Chris and Jack who simply happened to be in the right place at the right time. Our reporter in the field had the details."_

Her eyes snapped to the speakers in the passenger booth, a frown on her face and her ears wide open. Her interest was definitely piqued.

"… _I'm here with the Archon of Settlement Six, Edward Mortensen. What can you tell us of what happened?"_

" _Well,"_ came a male, older voice to replace the nasally tones of the reporter,  _"the first sign of trouble was a shrieking coming from the west. None of us knew who it belonged to, except for these two people. They told us that it heralded the arrival of a swarm of Reapers, and urged us to find a safe hiding place. As we had no contingency plan, if it wasn't for the presence of those two, then it is likely that you and I would not be talking right now. They saved our lives, and we have not seen them again since they left."_

" _Thank you, Archon Mortensen. There you have it; a story of two men in the right place at the right time to thwart a horrible, heart-breaking disaster. This reporter hopes that these two men are found, so they can be praised for their selfless act of bravery. Back to you in the studio."_

Elsa heard enough. She quickly issued a triple order to the newly nervous corporal in front, the first being to turn  _off_  the radio, the second to activate the miniature Uni-Com interface that doubled as the separating screen, and the third to activate the privacy function in the car so her conversation would not be heard. He quickly obliged and completed all three tasks by pushing a sequence of buttons on the dashboard with trembling fingers, and as the radio died and the screen became opaque, she commandingly spoke to the thin speech line of the miniature Uni-Com.

"Call Edward Mortensen, Archon of Settlement Six."

The line flickered as the device acknowledged her request, and a small picture of the Archon hovered in the top right of the screen next to the words  _DIALLING_. Elsa waited impatiently as the dial tones emanated from the speakers, and after what felt like an eternity but was actually less than ten seconds, the speech line disappeared and was replaced by the slightly pudgy, tired face of a man in his late thirties.

" _This is Archon Mortensen,"_ the man spoke with an obviously rehearsed lilt of politeness,  _"to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"_

"Good evening, Archon. I am Valkyrie Leader Elsa Snowfield." she greeted flatly.

Archon Mortensen's jaw visibly tensed, though it was clear that he was used to maintaining an expression of courtesy and respect.  _"Ah! I had no idea that the Valkyrie Leader was such a beautiful woman. What can I do for you?"_

Elsa's expression hardened a small amount – though it was not the first time she had been complimented in such a way, it always irritated her that rather than praise her skills, people seemed to focus on her looks. Especially as  _he_  called her  _'hot'_  in the apartment.

"You stated in the news report a month ago that two people named Chris and Zach-"

" _Jack."_  The Archon corrected her, much to her annoyance.

"… _Jack_ , were responsible for thwarting a Reaper attack on your settlement. What can you tell me of these two men?"

" _Uh…"_  he began, and Elsa was instantly struck with the notion that either he was caught off guard by her request, or he was choosing his next words with care. Therefore, with narrowed eyes and a firm voice, she pressed her point.

"I can make it a military order, if that would help  _jog_  your memory." she said coldly.

The Archon stiffened as he shook his head.  _"That won't be necessary, Valkyrie Leader. Well, the first thing I can tell you is that you are wrong."_

"Excuse me?" Elsa said indignantly.

" _I meant no disrespect. You see, it was not two men that saved us that night, but two_ women _._ " he explained, and Elsa was sure she could detect the ghost of a smirk on the left side of his lips.

"Women? But…but you said men…" she stuttered, completely taken aback.

" _I said nothing of the sort – I never specified their gender when the reporter interviewed me. She instantly assumed that our saviours were two men, when in fact it was two women named Christina and Jacqueline. Blonde and raven haired, respectively. I believe they said they were from one of the ill-fated northern settlements, which is why they knew exactly what to do when the Reapers arrived."_

"I…are you sure you did not mistake them, Archon? Or are you lying to me, in which case the punishment will be severe." she began weakly, but covered it with a heavily threatening tone to her voice.

The Archon raised his hands in almost peaceful surrender, and his expression adopted a mask of humility.  _"It was a thoughtless social experiment on my part, and for that I apologise, but it seems that sexism is still alive and well in this day and age, for the media to instantly assume that only men are capable of acts of bravery, no? Valkyrie Leader, you and your team are living proof that it is not the case."_

"That may be," Elsa began, though she couldn't help the slight blush on her cheeks at the true compliment, "but I am not convinced. If you are lying to me…"

" _I can assure you that I am not. I make a point of introducing myself to and greeting every single person that arrives in our settlement, whether they are intending to set down roots or are simply passing through. It is a point of professional pride that I do this, so I can truly ascertain what kind of person they are out of protectiveness of my settlement. Whoever you are looking for, Valkyrie Leader, you will not find in these two women. They are heroes."_

Elsa stared at the visual representation of Mortensen, completely surprised by his answers. She was so  _sure_  it was Frost and his friend, even when the reporter supposedly mispronounced Zach as Jack. She had no evidence that it  _was_  them, just a gut feeling…or was it obsession? Was she hearing things she wanted to hear, as a result of her impatience to get back into the field and hunt him down? Was her fixation on Frost causing her to misread events, and starting to play on her thoughts and dreams? Was her inappropriate behaviour in the back of the car, as she dreamt of Frost making passionate love to her on a kitchen counter a direct consequence of her thirst for vengeance?

" _Valkyrie Leader?"_

Archon Mortensen's voice jarred her from her introspective reverie, and she mentally shook those thoughts from her mind. It was too convenient – two people happening to be in that settlement, with exceedingly similar names to Chris and Zach, with knowledge of how to survive a Reaper swarm. He was lying and she knew it – but she couldn't prove it. Nor would any Inquisitors sanction the arrest and interrogation of a respected Archon on a simple feeling, coming from the gut of a single-minded Valkyrie. She had nothing.

He knew it.

"No," she said after a time, and a few moments of reasserting her cold demeanour, "that will be all. Thank you, Archon."

He smiled an obviously forced smile and opened his mouth to ostensibly say goodbye, but Elsa was in no mood to let the conversation continue even if it  _was_  merely one more sentence to go. She tersely drew her hand across the screen in a wiping motion, and the face of Archon Mortensen obediently dissipated into twinkling blue stars.

Even if he  _was_  lying, it didn't equate with everything she knew about Frost. Why would two men, guilty of countless bombings, murders and assassination attempts in addition to a clone soldier body count in the triple digits feel the need to save an entire settlement of people they did not know, who would otherwise send them to their doom? Why would Frost, who had both Astrid's life  _and_  hers in the palm of his hand and the opportunity to snuff them out at any time, choose to let them live?

Her thoughts became confusing and frustrating, and she forced herself to reclaim the singular image from her memory that precipitated everything that happened to this point – of Frost, staring at the camera in front of a bullet-ridden hover car, his eyes blank and unfeeling. It didn't matter – she  _knew_  he was responsible.

A single, soft beep emanated from the speakers and jarred her once more from introspective thought. It was a signal made by the driver to alert his passenger's attention when in privacy mode, as neither person would be able to hear each other speak.

"End privacy." Elsa muttered, and the opaque black bled away from the dividing screen, returning it to its previous transparency.

"You wanted my attention, Corporal?" she asked stiffly.

The young man nodded as his eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror. "Sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but I wanted to inform you that we are twenty minutes from our destination."

Elsa uttered her absent-minded thanks, and returned her gaze to the window.

Maybe whatever Commander Larsen had invited her to would distract her from the faint, uncomfortable sensation that started as a pinprick in the back of her mind, and had slowly grown into a pea-sized feeling…

…that nothing was as it seemed.

* * *

 

A low, disdainful grunt escaped the driver's lips as he slowly navigated the vehicle through the huge chain link gate along a tire-beaten, well used road towards a brightly lit set of buildings – one large warehouse, flanked by two vastly smaller buildings on either side, and a supply train station approximately a hundred metres away from the warehouse – all at the edge of a gigantic green and flat field that looked a little  _too_  artificial. As they approached in a slow crawl, Elsa's eyes caught sight of a sign on her side as it passed, attached to a long steel pole embedded in the grassy ground:

_PROJECT CHIMERA_   
_NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT BY AUTHORISED PERSONNEL_   
_TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT_

It seemed that she was authorised, given that upon showing her Valkyrie I.D. to the gate's sentinels, they chose to let the vehicle enter deeper into whatever was situated here rather than apprehend her for questioning – evidently Commander Larsen had notified them of her arrival ahead of time, which was fortunate as she had  _zero_ knowledge of  _Project Chimera,_ or that the outpost even existed.

It was as they were halfway towards the outpost that they noticed clones jogging towards them on the driver's side, dressed in plain black combat pants and a black T-shirt, and led by an Alpha who barked  _"left, right, left right…"_  over and over. It brought Elsa back to her training in the Staging Ground, where quite often her drill instructor would wake her and her team up in the middle of the night for an impromptu jog around the airfield, usually for no reason other than to satisfy his amusement – and it was then that the driver uttered what he evidently hoped to be an inaudible grunt.

However, Elsa easily caught it. "Is there something on your mind, Corporal?" she asked loudly and pointedly, and the driver flinched at her tone.

"No ma'am!" he blurted nervously, and eyed her reflection. She lifted her chin as she folded her arms.

"Spit it out, soldier." she snapped, glaring with iron-like hardness at his comparatively uncertain eyes.

"Uh…w-well…" he stammered, his hesitation evident in how, despite only the back of his head being visible from the passenger seat, she could see his jaw tense as his mouth opened and closed like a fish. Finally, he seemed to summon the urge to speak – albeit quickly and anxiously. "I was just…remarking to myself about the clones, ma'am."

"What of them?"

"W-Well…it's just…I've got to say, they freak me out a little. All identical; like someone had triplets to the fifth power, and they're just…mindless. Fella I knew who works at a cloning facility said they can make anyone so long as they've got their DNA…but for some reason there's this quirk they can't get rid of, no matter what they do, or how many changes they make…" he explained as he ceased the car near two parallel lines of suited and armed clone troopers, all in identical positions and stances with their rifles held upright in ceremony.

Elsa was fairly sure she heard him mention something about  _"…their eyes are always the same shade of brown…"_ but she had been immediately distracted by the arrival of Commander Hans Larsen, flanked by two elite Honour Guard troops – one of which he ordered to open her door. She stiffened as she drew her service cap onto her head and adjusted it so the peak was perfectly straight and level, and as her passenger door opened she extended her legs out and disembarked into the cool, fresh night air.

"Valkyrie Leader Snowfield. Welcome to Project Chimera." Hans greeted her warmly.

She clicked the heels of her smart, shiny one-inch heels together and straightened her body like a board, with one hand shooting up to salute at her temple.

"Thank you, Commander Larsen sir." she replied quickly.

His smile widened as he lazily returned her salute and promptly moved his gloved hand behind his back, and she dropped her arm to her side as per the unwritten rule. "At ease, Valkyrie Leader. I must say, you certainly dressed to impress." he remarked.

"I was unsure as whether the invitation was for something formal, so I chose to err on the side of caution, sir." she replied neutrally.

"Very wise. Come," he said approvingly as he stood to the side and opened his other gloved hand toward the rightmost building, "Project Chimera awaits."

Elsa's breath hitched with anticipation, and as she moved to follow Hans through the ceremonial line of troops toward the blank white building, she felt the moistness between her legs as she walked – reminding her of her dream, and of the driver. She turned her head to cast one look at him through the front passenger window, a glare that screamed  _"tell anyone of what you saw, and I will bury you"._

The visible rise and fall of his Adam's apple indicated that he received her message loud and clear.

* * *

 

So far, the only clues she had been able to put together as the elevator slowly closed in on the floor entitled ' _PROJECT CHIMERA – OBSERVATION ROOM'_ were that they were in zone twenty seven, in a secret base that few knew about, that happened to be at least ten floors underground. That was it. She knew nothing of  _Project Chimera_  itself, its purpose or why Unity had commissioned whatever it was with greater secrecy than Rapunzel's personal diary.

Hans offered nothing in the small-talk conversation she had participated in, either. Their topics ranged from his family to her squad, her efforts in locating Frost – she did openly wonder how he knew about her search efforts, though his reply was simply  _"an educated assumption, Elsa, based on your relentlessness in seeking him out while on duty"._

She mentally wondered what else he had made an 'educated assumption' about.

A topic that was particularly difficult for her to answer was, ironically, quite possibly the most innocent – he asked whether she had spent any time with her squad mates while off duty. Initially hesitant to answer, something she  _knew_  he picked up on, she eventually elected for the simple answer of  _"yes, I have"._

Everything inside her, everything that wanted Frost's head on a pike was screaming to divulge all she knew so Hans could bring the full weight of the military in on the search – that her second in command had slept with the infuriatingly elusive man and that he was still in the country – though she had no doubt Hans would regard her suspicions based on the month old news report as nothing more than circumstantial. Yet, Astrid's worried voice rang loudly in her mind, reminding her exactly of what would happen if she  _did_  tell Hans everything she knew. Not only would it mean the inevitable incarceration of her team and possible execution of her second, but in a cynical, pragmatic way it meant that even if she was able to negotiate leniency for Merida and Rapunzel, like 'dishonourable discharge', she would have to wait several years before a  _new_  Valkyrie team was trained and as experienced as her current team – and she simply couldn't wait that long. They were too good to replace.

Yet, the simple answer would have to suffice – though Hans' noncommittal  _hmm_  upon hearing it gave Elsa the tiniest feeling that something was going on in that mind of his.

As the elevator finally slowed to a halt, she couldn't help feeling that, despite her vow of silence ensuring her squad mates' safety, she was a traitor to her parents, to Hans and to Unity – and the sensation of being in over her head only grew that little bit more.

"Tell me," Hans' calm voice rang out as the elevator doors opened to reveal a long, well lit concrete hallway, with shutter-covered windows adorning both walls, "what do you know of the Mk V drones?"

Elsa blinked at the seemingly random question, before quickly remembering that nothing about Hans was random. "Er, they are a highly adaptable platform, sir, customizable in a variety of ways. Powered by two miniature ionic thrust jets, with the basic A.I. core sandwiched between them and held together by steel plating, they can be fitted with cleaning tools and solutions, engineering devices and in the case of the Mk V-X series, rotary pulse cannons. However, they are incredibly fragile."

"Very good," Hans smiled as they began to walk down the corridor, and Elsa caught how he re-adjusted his gloves for greater comfort, "let's try something bigger – the  _Einherjar_  class fighters? And please – let's be informal."

"Okay. The  _Einherjar_ fighters are designed for manoeuvrability and superior weaponry; they have a high top speed but have a tendency to stall when making turns at such a speed." Elsa explained as they walked side by side towards the grey double doors at the other end of the corridor.

"Excellent. You already know of the  _Draugr_ and  _Hela_ class dropships, so we won't discuss those."

"Yes…though I must ask: why are you so interested in my knowledge, sir?" she queried with a frown as she turned to face him.

Hans smiled knowingly. "For a number of reasons; one of which is tied to why I requested only your presence here – as leader of the Valkyries, your knowledge of our vehicles and weapons should be unparalleled, in addition to your rank befitting you certain…privileges."

"Like the  _Sleeping Beauty_  program, sir?"

Hans' smile momentarily faltered before he quickly reasserted it. "Ah, I am afraid that even I don't have access to  _that_. In any case," he paused as he feathered his hand over the left door, "do you remember what I told you in the debriefing following the Battle of the Depot, about the butterfly…et cetera?"

"Yes sir. You said that the Ghosts were the butterfly, my team was the nail, and all we needed was a hammer." Elsa recalled.

"Indeed, you have a very good memory. As I said, your rank means that you are eligible to be one of the few to see the newest addition to our military force, and the hammer which we will use to crush the Ghosts and their kind…"

He pushed open the door and offered Elsa the opportunity to enter first. Like the corridor, the room was well lit with basic furnishings decorated in a dull grey colour, with a panoramic window constituting the entire left, front and right walls. A black holo-projection desk, similar to the one in the Valkyrie's briefing room was located in the centre, displaying a strange, blue-hued vessel she did not recognise that revolved lazily in the air.

However, Elsa's gasping attention was instantly captivated by what lay on the other side of the front window, encompassing the entirety of it with its hulking, black mass. Numb and in shock, she carefully made her way to the window and stared in stunned amazement, completely ignoring the huge man who was standing a few feet to her side, seemingly equally enraptured.

"…the  _Chimera_  class." Hans finished.

Gigantic was a pitifully weak word to use for the monstrosity before her. Supported by six thick towers and resting on an intricate network of heavy bars that supported access walkways for the thousands of engineers that flitted back and forth, the  _Chimera_ class was every inch the terrifying beast after which she was named – and it was definitely a she, since Elsa could easily pick out two colossal ionic thrust engines on the port side, therefore two would ostensibly be located on the starboard – and a command tower on the upper deck. Shaped like an inverted trapezium but slightly angled forward with shades of a rhombus, smooth rather than sharp edges and contours, and a glass viewing port at the bow, she knew  _exactly_  what the  _Chimera_  class was.

"She's a ship…" Elsa breathed in awe as she numbly removed her service cap from her head and slipped it under her right arm.

"Not just any ship," Hans grinned proudly as he stood to her right, "she's the first of her kind. She is fifteen hundred feet in length, nine hundred feet in width, and is powered by an enhanced unidium drive."

Elsa's eyes widened even further than she ever thought they could, as she turned her incredulous gaze towards him she gasped, "The same thing that powers our cities…is in  _that_?"

Hans' voice took on a prideful tone, evidently pleased at her reaction. "Yes. The, ah,  _cold_  description of the  _Chimera_  class is that her primary function is as a long range aircraft, drone and troop deployment vessel, and her secondary function is a heavy bombardment weapons platform. To those ends, she supports over three thousand personnel including two thousand clone troopers, two hundred and fifty Mk V drones, and twenty  _Hela_  class drop ships. In addition, she is armed with three Hofferson family-designed retractable heavy pulse cannons on the port and starboard sides, and four medium pulse cannon emplacements on the flight deck, again on the same sides. Covered in energy-resistant unidium armour plating, she is the bleeding edge of Unity's advanced military might – and that's not the best part."

Elsa was almost afraid to ask, but her curiosity was far too strong to resist. "What is?"

"She is equipped with advanced sensor hardware…" he trailed off, letting the words settle in the air before finishing in a pointed yet smooth voice, "designed to cut through the interference of the Dead Zone."

Elsa's mind was sent spinning, ricocheting around her skull at a hundred miles an hour. She had several theories as to precisely  _what_   _Project Chimera_  was – from a new type of fighter to a cutting edge range of firearms – but nothing in her wildest dreams came close to the black, airborne aircraft carrier that was armed to the teeth. She was a weapon of  _war_ , designed specifically to ignore the Dead Zone.

"What is her purpose? What is her name?" she blurted, both questions melting together in a rapid blur.

"Her purpose is to crush the abnormal resistance…as for her name?" he smiled, and his voice took on a seemingly dark tone as he rested his left hand on her shoulder, and gestured with his right to the window.

"Valkyrie Leader Elsa Snowfield, meet the  _Hammer of Unity_."

She repeated the name under her breath as she stared in awe – and a sharp edge of fear – at the black vessel before her. "All we needed was a hammer…" she murmured.

"I thought you'd like the symbolism." he chuckled, and then gasped as though hit by a realisation, "Oh, I almost forgot; you should meet her captain. Elsa Snowfield," he announced, then stepped back as his right arm swept over and gestured to the man she previously ignored, "allow me to introduce Captain Drago Bludvist."

Elsa's eyes quickly looked over the newly introduced officer, who momentarily glanced towards her and grunted with disdain before returning his gaze to his vessel. Drago was a hulk of a man, clad in a dark grey officer's dress uniform and sporting dreadlocks that were far too long to be within military guidelines – evidently it paid to be high up in the ranks – and in a way, his face reminded her of a Neanderthal.

Not that she would state it out loud; it would likely start a fight, and she would hate to get his blood on her impeccable uniform.

One thing that caught her gaze, and try as she might she could not avert it, was his left arm – a dull, metal-plated, fully operational cybernetic prosthesis. Built with his huge physical frame in mind, he had seemingly chosen to eschew his left sleeve in favour of displaying it proudly…or intimidatingly. Evidently he was given the choice of either a cybernetic arm or one grown from his DNA – and elected for the vastly more imposing option.

Drago was obviously aware of her lingering stare, as his next words were deep, curt and almost pleased. "Courtesy of a blooming abnormal. Burned off my arm. Last thing he did – I strangled him with my other hand."

Elsa understandably flinched, and mentally thanked whoever was watching that he was too busy admiring his vessel to notice her involuntary recoil at his uncaring attitude. Silence reigned in the observation lounge, with Drago uninterested in either Elsa or Commander Larsen, and the platinum blonde was working out what, if anything, she could say to that.

"So, Elsa," Hans spoke loudly in an attempt to defuse the tension, "what do you honestly think?"

She took a moment to choose her words carefully. The sight of the  _Hammer_  was awe-inspiring as a member of Unity's armed forces…but as a person, its very form aroused a sense of unease in the pit of her stomach. This was a vessel of unbridled aggression and destruction, a veritable flying doomsday weapon designed only for death. To use such a ship on the abnormals seemed like nothing short of overkill – however, since the Valkyries' inception Hans had made it perfectly clear that the abnormals were to be captured, not killed…so maybe the  _Hammer_ was not the metaphorical boot used to crush the helpless ant.

"I think…she will be a force to be reckoned with. When will she be ready?" she asked, hiding the tremble in her voice by forcing as neutral a tone as humanly possible.

"Not soon enough." was the growling interjection from the  _Hammer's_ captain, unwilling to give her the slightest courtesy of even  _looking_  at her.

"Agreed," Hans sighed sadly, "our initial projections were set at six weeks from now, but unfortunately a few quirks have been making an appearance, forcing us to delay her maiden voyage by a fortnight."

Elsa nodded slowly, but her thoughts were tumultuous. She tried to predict the future: if the  _Hammer_  was successful in her purpose and the entire abnormal resistance was captured and detained…what was the ship's purpose then – simply to fly around until the end of time?

" _I wonder; when all this is over, when every member of the abnormal resistance is either captured or dead and you have sated your lust for vengeance, what use will there be for a Valkyrie…for people like you?"_

Inquisitor Jafar's remark from during their fruitless museum meeting swam to the front of her mind, like a quiet but ominous passenger on the train of her thought. She hadn't paid much attention to it before…but after coming face-to-hull with the latest advancement in Unity's military might, the comment she previously thought a disdainful jab seemed to take on a whole new meaning.

Maybe the  _Hammer of Unity_ represented not only the end of the abnormal resistance…but the end of the Valkyries, of her self-appointed mission, and the realisation that if it fulfilled _its_  purpose, by extension it fulfilled _hers_ , too.

Maybe that was what scared her about the intimidating vessel, or was it the worry that it was designed for something more…long term?

She mentally shook away the thought. No-one was stupid enough to plunge the world into a fourth conflict – the last one was devastating enough and claimed the lives of over seventy five percent of the world's population. Despite its bravado and technological advancements, Unity was  _still_  a recovering power, choosing instead to devote its resources to scientific progression for the betterment of its citizens.

To engage the Alliance would be suicide.

Elsa took one last glance at the inert carrier, glimpsing drones as they hovered close to her hull and worked to finish her name by welding the letters 'A' and 'H' to the space near her port bow, before turning her back on the advanced ship – and that was when she finally took note of the projection in the middle of the room. She frowned, still unable to discern exactly  _what_ it was.

"Excuse me sir," she spoke quietly, and then pointed at the shimmering blue projection as she looked at him through the corner of her eye, "but what is that?"

Glancing over to the curious blonde, Hans followed her finger until his gaze rested upon the shimmering, intangible construct. He shrugged lightly and disinterestedly, but before he turned back to admire the behemoth in the shipyard, Elsa swore she saw a glint of knowing in his eyes. "Oh, merely a Third War vessel."

"I thought they were all decommissioned…" Elsa said, cocking her head.

"They were," Hans explained, glancing once at Drago, "but apparently we missed one. Rest assured – it is an oversight that will be rectified soon."

"I see." she said quietly, letting her arm fall to her side as she returned her attention to the projection, as it revolved slowly and innocently, a reminder of the disparity between the vessels of warfare a century ago, and the weapon of terror on the other side of the glass.

She stared at it for a long time as her mind ticked over, long enough for it to register the signs of fatigue creeping by way of a sharp ache in the soles of her feet that branched up to her thighs, her arms beginning to feel like lead, and her thoughts becoming cloudy – and as if they weren't obvious enough clues, she raised one hand to her mouth to stifle the tiniest yawn.

In such company, she prayed that her involuntary action went unnoticed – but the immediate turn of Hans's concerned head towards her, and the following glance over her head to the blue digital clock above the double door they entered through told her that she might as well have tried to stifle an explosion.

"Half past midnight! Oh my, I did not realise the time! Forgive me, Elsa. I tried to schedule an earlier time but…" he began apologetically, but Elsa waved him off as, with heavy eyes, she slowly shook her head.

"It's nothing, sir. I'm just a little tired from the journey." she said dismissively, but Hans wasn't having any of it.

"It's my fault, I should have thought. Please, there is accommodation in the officer's quarters on the eastern side of the base; I can have one of the rooms made ready for you?"

"No, thank you. If the car that brought me is still here, I'd like to travel home if that's no trouble." she declined with a smile.

"Of course. I am afraid I have some business to conduct with Captain Bludvist, but my Honour Guardsmen will escort you to your car. I will notify your driver, and he should be ready to take you home when you reach the surface."

Hans walked calmly towards her, and offered one gloved hand while the other remained behind his back. As Elsa shook it, he flashed a toothy smile.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation, and being part of a defining moment in history. The future of Unity is being constructed in this very shipyard, and I am pleased that you were able to see it first-hand." he said smoothly and genuinely.

Elsa smiled weakly in response; her pitiful gesture derived from both tiredness and her previous thoughts. "Thank you for inviting me, sir. I look forward to her maiden voyage."

"As do I, Valkyrie Leader. Safe journey home." He nodded in respect and released her hand. Turning towards the door, Elsa felt a sense of discomfort as though his eyes were boring into the back of her skull, and as she donned her service cap she wondered two things – if this 'future' Hans was referring to was something she would be a part of, and if the young corporal would be amenable to driving a little faster on the return journey.

* * *

 

_Time: 04:14  
_

Despite the corporal's efforts to deftly balance discrete speed with not causing an accident in his endeavouring to return Elsa to her home in good time, and the hour-long and mercifully dream-free nap she indulged herself in along the way, to say that she was dead on her feet would not be far from the truth.

As she offered a perfunctory but grateful wave goodbye to the young man as he pulled away from her house, all she could think about as she stifled an embarrassingly huge yawn with one clenched hand and aimlessly swiped her card key at the front door's reader with the other, was changing into her bedclothes, curling up under her blanket on the living room floor and drifting off into gloriously fluffy sleep.

The door obediently unlocked with a click as the reader's soft beeping granted her access, and she pulled the service cap from her head as she opened and stepped through the door into the darkened hallway. The way she was feeling; if there happened to be conveniently placed bedclothes, blankets and pillows, she would have elected to slumber right there in the hallway.

As she kicked her heeled shoes from her feet and uncaringly kicked them somewhere against the right wall – it was dark, four in the morning and she really didn't care  _where_  they ended up – she ran her fingers through her hair, willing her iron-heavy eyelids to remain open. Deciding that the plain bun was no longer smart but smart _ing_ , she loosened it and felt her platinum blonde locks cascade over her shoulders in waves.

Yet, despite her body's relative exhaustion and pleas for sleep, as she entered her equally darkened living room, tossed the service cap onto the sofa and proceeded to relieve herself of the constricting dress uniform, her mind was still fairly active, ticking over everything that had happened since waking from her nap. For example: the worry that her self-appointed mission was starting to play havoc with her mind, given the nature of her dream,  _who_  and precisely  _what_  it involved. Dreaming about one's enemy was not uncommon, but dreaming about fucking them on a kitchen counter whilst feeling a sense of attraction definitely qualified for the  _'possible obsession'_  category. Not to mention the  _Hammer of Unity_  – both its physical form and its purpose gave Elsa a deep sense of unease, almost as though events were proceeding without her knowledge, and she felt that rather than being the captain of her own destiny, she was simply along for the ride.

For the time being normalcy was what she needed, with a healthy amount of sleep, so it was with that goal in mind that as she unclasped her plain white bra and replaced it with an equally plain white pyjama T-shirt, she addressed the inert Uni-Com on the other end of the room.

"Uni-Com, activate." she murmured sleepily, hoping that the voice recognition software would still register her command.

Thankfully it did, and as the screen filled with a faint blue, the pulsing speech line took its rightful place at the centre with the usual media accoutrements on the right and left.  _"Good morning, Miss Snowfield."_

Elsa ignored the greeting and went straight to the point. "Have there been any hits on the facial recognition program?" she asked.

" _No, Miss Snowfield. As per your prior instructions, any match below forty percent has been discarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-"_

The usually perfunctory and often condescending tones of the Uni-Com's A.I. descended into a decidedly uncomfortable noise, like it was stuck on the letter 'r', and the volume increased steadily until a heavily wincing Elsa had to cover her ears. "Uni-Com! Deactivate!" she yelled.

The device ignored her cries and continued to make a resounding racket, but as Elsa made reach over to one of her glass tablets on the nearby sofa with the idea of throwing it through the screen, the sound instantly cut out as all signs of life within the device disappeared, as though someone had considerately switched it off.

Elsa slowly removed her hands, watching the newly transparent screen warily as though it was going to explode, and muttered "Uni-Com?"

Nothing happened. The screen remained as transparent as before.

"Uni-Com, activate."

Silence and inactivity were the only things that greeted her, and with a feeling of simmering frustration – all she wanted to do was check the program's hits and go to sleep after all – she repeated the order in a much louder and firmer voice.

It was then that life returned to the screen, filling it once more with the faint, translucent blue…but something was different. No speech line patiently awaited her command, nor was there a scrolling news bulletin on the right…nothing but a single, blinking cursor in the centre.

A cursor that moved to create letters across her screen, letters that formed a name.

Hers.

_eLsA…|_

 

She swallowed thickly. Glitches within the Uni-Com's software were not uncommon and usually fixed themselves within a short time – but never before had they addressed their owners by name. The cursor dropped to a new line, and repeated itself.

 

_ELsa…|_

 

Blinking, she tried to make sense of the situation as she stared at the twice-typed letters. "Yes?" she asked faintly, attempting to control the gut-clenching unease, as it didn't help the increasingly oppressive sensation of the surrounding darkness, nor the prickling on the back of her neck…as though she was being watched.

 

_El…Sa…|_

 

"Congratulations, you know my name," she snapped, tired of the fear and the prank someone was obviously playing on her, "who are you and what do you want?"

 

_mY…NaME…is…Au-rO-Ra…|_

 

"Aurora…" she repeated under her breath, "you are…a person? A program?"

The cursor disappeared, and in its place was a veritable onslaught of news images that filled the screen, some appearing so fast that one picture was barely there for a second before others obscured it. She could only make out a few of them, but they were enough for her to abandon the attempted control of her disquieted sensations.

Pictures of Frost, of her, of the Valkyries…and the graduation picture she scanned a month before.

She covered her mouth and gasped as she gazed upon the smiling, blue-hued face of her sister, stood next to their parents Agdar and Idun…whose faces were blurred.

The images dissolved instantly into the faint blue, and the blinking cursor returned to its position in the centre – and then it moved once more.

 

_nOThiNg…iS…w-Hat…it…SeEMs…|_

 

"Nothing is…what do you mean?! Who are you!" she shouted as she strode over to the Uni-Com, "Answer me!"

Whoever this 'Aurora' was, they did not have a chance to answer, as the blue screen instantly disappeared into its previous clear transparency…and returned, complete with the A.I.'s speech line, news bulletin and messaging options. Elsa blinked, completely bewildered by the unfolding situation.

"…Uni-Com?" she addressed it quietly.

" _Yes, Miss Snowfield?"_  it answered.

"What…what happened?"

" _Apologies, Miss Snowfield, but it would appear that an outside party attempted to gain entry into my software, and accidentally accessed your library of thriller and suspense movies in addition to my coding matrix in their wish to find sensitive documents."_ the Uni-Com explained flatly and emotionlessly, as though someone hacking it was nothing to worry about.

"Source?" she asked curiously.

" _Unknown."_

Elsa sighed uncertainly, and ran her fingers across her scalp as she thought of what to do – and realised that there wasn't much she  _could_  do. Whoever did it was good enough to leave no trace, but obviously not  _experienced_  enough to know where to go for important information within a Uni-Com's hard drive.

" _I will run full diagnostics overnight, and ensure that it will not happen again. Attempts like this are not uncommon, Miss Snowfield – for example, the Media Stream incident four years ago._

Elsa chuckled under her breath – that was a fun day. Someone had achieved the impossible and hacked the Media Stream, filling it with cute dragons, fluffy unicorns and other adorable looking creatures in place of propaganda broadcasts, Iago's rants and messages from the Unifier.

She remembered how the resultant gleeful squealing that echoed from the living room could be heard from her locked bedroom at the other end of the house, and she remembered how it made her smile that, even though her sister gave up on asking her to open the door…she still found joy in life.

"I recall that incident," she murmured quietly as she stared at the graduation picture hung on the wall, "maybe you're right. Inform me of the results when I wake up. Goodnight, Uni-Com."

" _Goodnight, Miss Snowfield."_ it answered, and obediently switched into hibernation mode.

As if her day couldn't have gotten any more confusing and unnerving, now there was  _that_ , and as Elsa's gaze moved down from the picture and upon the neatly placed blanket and pillows nearby on the floor, she came to a realisation that only heightened the irritation dwelling happily in her heart, as she noticed how decidedly  _not_  iron-heavy her eyelids were.

No sleep tonight.

* * *

  _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _ **01:16:17:35:20**_

* * *

 


	22. No Bride Should Be Without Her Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Ludicrous levels of fluff and cheese. In addition, Kristanna Smut after "Time: 19:30".
> 
> Muahahaha.

_Location: Sanctuary_  
_Date: November 6th_ _, 2073_  
_Time: 09:00_

 

"Run it by me again." Anna urged.

It was two hours before the ceremony and, to put it mildly, she was  _freaking out_. Betrothal ceremonies in Unity's society were, rather than anything traditional, extravagant and with pomp and circumstance, simply a case of _"sign here, initials here, here and here, biometric identification print here. Hey presto, you're married. Unity in thought, Unity in deed….next…"_

By comparison, a wedding conducted in topside Greenland where she would be married to the one she loved most of all was a  _huge_  thing for her. Not to mention the fact that, due to his knowledge of pre-war wedding ceremonies as a result of his almost obsessive collection of historical texts, Kozmotis was the de facto wedding planner.

Kozmotis. Stoic, grumpy, battle-loving Kozmotis had  _planned her wedding._

The worst part? The ceremony itself was going to be a  _surprise_  for her. She knew nothing about what was going to happen, despite several attempts to sneak topside, eavesdrop on discussions between Kozmotis and Neve – as the leader of her kind, Neve was the only person Anna wanted to officiate it, much to the motherly woman's delight and gratitude – and it had reached the point where her best friend Jack was under orders from her fiancée, her leader  _and_  her wedding planner to stun her if push came to shove.

So, with two hours to go before her life changed for the third time, Anna had been pacing her undecorated concrete room back and forth enough times to erode a gorge between her bed and the front door – guarded by a pistol and staff-toting Jack, naturally – whilst wringing her trembling hands and occasionally stopping to grasp his shoulders and scream  _"I'm getting married!"_ , mostly in glee, sometimes in  _tearful_  glee. Her eyes were wide, her heart was going nineteen-to-the-dozen, she had to mentally control her breathing and try her hardest not to inadvertently ignite the Ghost uniform she was wearing.

A few years ago, Hiccup had wisely tailored a special flame-resistant set for her in case of accidents and up until that point it served its purpose admirably…but could it hold up to uncontrollable flames as a result of pre-wedding jitters? She didn't want to test that, and her best friend was having enough trouble trying to consciously keep the room's temperature at a normal level via his own winter powers. So there was  _that_  to contend with. Nervousness, panic, anticipation, love, fear, ache, sadness, anger, almost every emotion that had been named – and probably some yet to be discovered – all battled for existence inside her heart.

Therefore, in addition to being her guard, Jack became her distraction-slash-storyteller-slash-counsellor.

"Run what by you again?" he asked.

"The thing we were talking about." she babbled as she turned her back on him to complete another length.

"What thing?"

"The thing!"

"Which thing?! There are two things!" he blurted loudly.

"Thethingwiththethingand-aaaargh!" she shouted rapidly as she turned back, "tell me again what you and Eugene did before you came home!"

"We eloped and got married in zone twenty five. It was only a small ceremony; just the Archon, a couple of dwellers and a random Reaper we pulled off the street – he was in tears, by the way."

Anna stopped in her tracks in complete and utter confusion, and snapped her eyes up to Jack – who, despite trying to keep a straight face, held a twinkle in his eye that was quintessential Frost. She stared in complete incomprehension for a few seconds before a new emotion ran the gauntlet and bubbled up inside her – and she doubled over with laughter as if it was the first time ever. Even Jack was overcome with the giggles…though he still kept the pistol close.

Still giggling as she straightened up, she covered her face with her hand and wiped downwards, feeling the knowledge and the realisation hit her again as, staring off into space she muttered, "Oh God…I needed that." She then gazed disbelievingly at her best friend and breathed, "I'm getting married…"

"I know." He smirked at her.

"But I still need you to tell me what happened. I need the distraction, Jack, even if you've told me this story eight times already." She added pleadingly.

He chuckled. "Alright, fine. We're doing it on the bed though; my legs are tired from making sure you don't make a break for freedom, but that means you have to promise that you will stay right here."

"Jack…" she whined, throwing in a pout. She was still such an excitable child inside.

"I mean it. The alternative is I shoot you and we conduct the entire ceremony with you being unconscious."

"You'd do that to your best friend?" she gasped under her hand, watching as he folded his arms and glared at her, tight lipped.

"Yep. That is how seriously I'm taking my orders. Boss lady Neve, Boss man Kristoff and Koz all said to keep you in here. So on our best friendship, I want you to swear to me you won't try and escape."

"Jaaaaaack…" she whined.

"Anna."

"Jaaaaaack! You're not leaving me any wiggle room are you?" she continued.

"Nope." he said, popping the 'p'.

She gazed pleadingly into his eyes, exuding the most potent of puppy-dog expressions she could muster, enough to melt the hearts of ordinary men…but his stoic, hard stare told her the worst – she was beaten.

"Fine!" she huffed, turned on her feet and stomped on the concrete floor to flop down on the bed, hearing a victorious snickering to her right as Jack followed, and parked himself beside her.

"Right, so – Eugene and I said our vows-"

"Jack!" she reprimanded him, while whapping the back of his head.

"Alright!" he laughed, and she watched him rest the staff against the bed in order to massage the sore spot before continuing, "Eugene and I checked all of our caches; everything is where it should be. Spare masks, goggles, automatic rifles, submachine guns, you know. Anyway, the night before we came back we swung by Settlement Six to check on everyone. They're doing fine; Elara seems to have gotten over the attack."

Anna felt the eighth blossom of compassion for her comrade's protectiveness to the little girl he barely knew, especially considering that after taking care of the children for so long in Jack's place, she had to suppress….brooding tendencies. "Elara's a beautiful name," she blurted before she thought, "You should call your daughter that."

"I might do, if I have one." he chuckled, and she was sure she could detect an edge of forlornness, "Selene as well, if I have two; she's the Greek goddess of the moon…anyway! Nothing happened, so when we got back, you gave me probably the biggest hug in the entire  _world_ , told me how much you missed me-"

"-because I did." She interjected.

"-and showed me around this wonderful place. I've said it…eight times before and I'll say it again; this place is amazing, and everyone's done a great job making it home. The kids won't stop talking about  _'Aunty Anna and her fiery light shows'_ , so I know they've been in good hands. You're a natural, Streak."

Anna blushed – she absolutely adored standing in for Jack as the kindergarten teacher-slash-babysitter, to the point that she was reluctant to hand the metaphorical baton back upon his return…so Jack suggested they look after the kids together.

She wanted to say  _"aww, it was nothing"_ , except no words would leave her throat but a soft "Thanks."

She felt a cool arm drape itself over her shoulders, and instinctively she leaned against him and rested her head upon his right shoulder. For a few minutes the two friends sat in contemplative silence as they enjoyed each other's company. The fire-weaver and the frost-weaver, two opposite elements that could consume each other yet were the closest of friends. She thought of how fortunate she felt – even though they were in a secret underground facility sandwiched between two world powers that could smite them off the face of the earth, living off fishing runs, produce from the hydroponics bay that had been speed-grown by Neve and other similarly gifted people and tinned food on treat nights, she felt such a sense of completion and family far beyond that of her biological family. Her heart was full of joy and love, and the impending marriage to Kristoff added the final jigsaw piece that created a new, whole Anna.

She still had regrets, though and as she sighed in what she thought was contentment, Jack seemed to pick up on those regrets veiled under the happiness.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Well…I'm no romantic, but-"

"Yes you are." Jack interrupted.

Anna shot him a surprised look. "I am?"

Jack nodded slowly, a knowing smile gracing his pale lips. "You're a total romantic. Even under the combat training and the things you've seen, you're still the same person. Kristoff's just a soft oaf, but you still believe in true love, whatever shape it takes. Even if it's friendly love like you and I share, love between a family like we all do, or you loving Kristoff with your heart and soul. Trust me when I say this: you're the heart of the team, Anna. Out of all of us, you're the biggest romantic."

"Is that a bad thing? Am I being weak?" she asked worriedly as she clenched a fist over her heart – and his response was a simple smile and a squeeze of her shoulders.

"Not at all, Anna. That's just the pre-wedding jitters talking." he said soothingly.

She blinked, feeling a rush of warmth from the support of Jack that fought with the regret and the disappointment that remained in her chest, despite her attempts to dislodge it. "I suppose you're right," she murmured, "it's just…"

"What's wrong, Anna? You should be bouncing off the walls, or freaking out. Not acting all mopey and stuff." He asked, frowning curiously.

Bowing her head as she laced her fingers together and played with her thumbs, she closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. "I once snuck into Kozmotis' quarters while he was exercising in the hangar bay, and you know how he's got all these books and decorations and stuff from before the war? Well, I found a book on weddings…and I couldn't resist peeking…and the more I read, the more I fell in love with the whole ceremony. The flowers, the bridesmaids…it's all just, you know, beautiful—and the bride's dresses, with the trains and the veils and the ribbons…it's just…"

"…you wanted a wedding like the ones you saw in that book." Jack finished in a quiet murmur. Anna felt him stroke circles into her right shoulder in an attempt to sooth her.

She nodded her assent, albeit barely. "Yeah. It's stupid, I know. The most important part of the marriage is the actual marriage, and it doesn't matter if it's just two people or two thousand…it's just…all the brides in that book wore amazing, gorgeous dresses, and here I am about to get married in my Ghost uniform."

"You wanted to look like them for Kristoff." He vocalised her thoughts for her.

"Not just him, I wanted to look good for  _me."_ she whispered sadly. Small tears slid from her closed eyes, and the arm around her shoulders squeezed tighter. She thought herself to be selfish – there they were, hiding in an underground facility away from the world's eyes, hunted and discriminated against with their own problems…and there  _she_  was, worrying about a  _dress._  In addition she wanted to look good for her kind as well, to show them that there  _is_  beauty in the world, there  _is_  love, joy and warmth to be found if you sift past the hate, the violence, the darkness and death.

In a strange way, her wedding was as much for  _them_  as it was for her.

She slid one hand up to her shoulder and laced her fingers with Jack's, squeezing tightly. She knew his role at that point was to make sure she didn't spoil the surprise by giving into her child-like inquisitiveness, but his presence offered more than that. He was her support and her comfort, the soothing arms and the kind words she needed to get past her pre-wedding jitters and her self-perceived selfishness, and in the moment where she felt happiness at the prospect of being married, sadness at it not being the perfect wedding that she felt her kind deserved, and the guilt at feeling like she was being self-centred, she felt like she didn't know what she would do if she didn't have him with her at that moment in time.

"Hey," he murmured as he gently pinched her cheek, "it's gonna be okay."

"I know," she sniffed, and gazed up at him as she smiled, "I know. Thank you for being here with me, putting up with my whining. I should be happy, not sad. This is the big day!"

As soon as the last word left her lips, however, she noticed another Frost-type twinkle in his eye, and she knew him long enough to recognise the beginnings of a smirk. Whatever he was hiding, he was doing his best to cover it with a straight face – and though it could conceivably be put down to her upcoming surprise ceremony, the timing of his expression seemed odd considering the context of their conversation.

Frowning, she opened her mouth to question his secrecy – but before the first word left her lips, she heard the echo of footsteps from the Red Wing's access hallway as they closed in on her door. With a gasp, she immediately released his hand and shot up to her feet. Her hands quickly straightened her black tank top before moving to check her hair was still in its pristine braided bun, and as the footsteps stopped just outside her door, she took a deep breath, held her hands together in front of her and waited. She felt a small breeze of cold air, figuring that Jack was now standing behind her.

It was time.

There was a knocking at the door, and having blurted out  _"come in"_ before thinking, it opened to reveal a wide, brilliant smile attached to the face of Neve. Poking her head through the doorway, the abnormal leader shuffled half of her body through…while suspiciously making sure that the other half was hidden.

"Anna," she greeted her with warmth and politeness, "you look lovely. The uniform truly becomes you."

Anna felt a blush creep into her cheeks at the motherly woman's compliment – it was true, if part of life was to find oneself, then she truly became who she was meant to be when she donned the uniform for the first time three years ago, just like her marriage to Kristoff was always meant to be.

"Thank you, Neve." She answered, "Is it time to get this show on the road?"

The raven-haired woman blinked, and a smirk worthy of the mischievous Ghost stood behind her crept along her lips as she slowly shook her head. Anna frowned slightly; why was she here, if it wasn't time yet?

"Oh no, you've got at least ninety minutes yet. No, I have a surprise for you – two, actually."

Anna's eyes widened a small margin – Neve had a surprise that she could  _actually_  find out about. "What is it?" she gasped, grinning happily.

"Well, when Kozmotis began planning the wedding several weeks ago, during our discussions it occurred to me that something was missing. Marriage for the right reasons is a big thing in this day and age, so we both agreed that if we were to hold such a ceremony, we would do it correctly – well, as much as we possibly could with our limited resources, that is. To that end, I directed Jamie's mother and Hiccup to the goal of creating something for you to make this day as special as possible. After all…"

It was at that point that Neve moved further into the room, revealing something that caught her breath and stopped her heart.

"…no bride should be without her dress."

Gasping in delight, Anna's hands shot to her mouth as a lump grew in her throat, to go with the welling of water in her eyes. In Neve's right hand, held high so it would not drag upon the concrete floor was her very own white wedding dress. It was only a simple little thing – one inch shoulder straps with rippled lace cap sleeves, a sweetheart bodice with waves that looked like the material was drawn to the left and a trailing skirt with a stitched floral pattern at the bottom hem that ebbed and flowed with every movement of Neve's arm. What especially caught her eye was how the bodice shimmered under her room's artificial light, and as she moved closer and traced a trembling finger over it, she recognised the twinkles as belonging to the sticky transparent 'gemstones' for the arts and crafts projects in kindergarten, things left for the people who were supposed to move into the bunker decades ago, but didn't.

Her heart swelled with the moving realisation that, not only did Jamie's mother and Hiccup design, cut and stitch the dress, that the children under her care also helped to finish it.

She never felt more loved than in that moment.

"Do you like it?" Neve asked anxiously. With her left hand trembling over her mouth, Anna's tearful gaze moved over to the raven-haired leader.

"Like it?" Anna gasped, and surged forward to embrace her in a tight, grateful hug. "I love it! I just…I…wow…it's so b-beautiful, I…I can't speak…"

Anna pulled away and immediately began to frantically fan her eyes with her hands as she stared pointedly at the ceiling, gulping down the lump in her throat. "I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry… _I will not cry yet!_ God, it's times like these where I hate being a fire-weaver, I can't cool off! _"_  she rambled, and then sighed a  _"thank you"_ when another cold breeze from a certain team mate washed over her burning cheeks.

It seemed like a futile endeavour, resisting the urge to burst into tears. Ten minutes ago, she was lamenting the lack of a wedding dress to be married in, and cursing her perceived self-centredness for even thinking such a thing…and then, completely unbeknownst to her – though it did explain why she wasn't allowed in the kindergarten rooms a week ago – several people had pitched in to surprise her with a stunning dress for her big day.

"How did they…" she gulped, "how did they manage to make it?"

Neve winced, as though what she was about to say was shameful. "Well, after I read the diary belonging to Dr Summersby, she mentioned that some of the military heads would be visiting, in addition to the fact that this is an old NATO facility for leaders of the countries belonging to that organisation – people who never arrived. So, I thought there would be luxury cloths hidden somewhere to be used explicitly for those people, and as such Hiccup, Kozmotis and I went looking through the Maintenance District."

She added, "Unfortunately, this dress is essentially made from unused fine linen tablecloths hence the floral stitching, and the lace has been taken from net curtains in one of the abandoned houses on the surface to make the sleeves and the veil…not exactly your typical bridal dress."

"Are you kidding?" Anna gaped as she clasped her fists over her heart and bounced with glee, "this is beautiful! Oh God, I have a dress…I have a dress! I love it! I love you! Thank you so much, you've made something so gorgeous…"

Neve giggled. "We cannot take credit for the sequins and the gemstones – it was with Mr Overland's encouragement that the children added their own little touch to show how much you mean to them."

Anna gasped sharply, and whirled around to face her best friend with widened eyes of shock. "You?"

Jack leaned on his staff and shyly scratched the back of his head, the pistol having been holstered when Neve arrived. "I might have had a small hand in it, yeah…" he muttered awkwardly.

Small hand or not, Anna squeaked with barely restrained glee and leapt forward to embrace her decidedly surprised friend with a tight hug. "Thank you…Jack…" she nearly sobbed into his shoulder.

She felt his arm drape itself across her back as he muttered, "No problem, firecracker. You've always been worth it."

He then yelped as she pulled back and slapped him on the shoulder while hissing, "You  _knew_ about this! You let me whine about not having a dress, when you  _knew_  one was made!"

"What was I supposed to do?!" he protested, "It wouldn't have been a surprise then, would it?"

Anna's eyes narrowed as she pointed a threatening finger, acutely aware that his response deprived her of a comeback. She opened her mouth with a sharp intake of breath, but was forced to reply with "Touché. Come here, you."

She quickly embraced him once more and threw in a grateful kiss on his cold cheek for emphasis, then whirled around to face her pride and joy once more to bathe in the warm feeling of solidarity and love.

"That's not all." Neve added, smirking. Anna's eyes widened – another surprise?

"I-It's not?" she stammered.

"Oh no, not at all. Several of the women in our extended family expressed a desire to help, and as such they have pitched in what they could to make your day as bright as possible. Now, we all know that many of our ladies were rescued out of their homes – and it is a fact of life that we all carry some form of make-up for any situation when out and about."

As if on cue, Neve's vice-leader Fiona and the ship's medical officer Ariel entered, grinning proudly and toting small boxes with various cosmetic items like sticks of mascara, foundation compacts, eyeshadow pencils and lipstick. As though there was no other place they could be, Anna's hands once more cupped her mouth in stunned shock.

"We asked if anyone would be willing to lend us the make-up they had at the time of their rescue," Fiona said while Ariel nodded gleefully, "and…well…people were only too happy to help."

Bouncing with delight, Anna couldn't help herself anymore – in a perfect contrast, she burst into sobbing tears at the same time as a giddy squeal escaped her lips.

" _OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!"_ she blurted rapidly, and then took in a deep breath to scream " _BEST DAY EVER!"_

"Which means," Neve added, and even through the explosion of joyful excitement it was easy for Anna to tell she was glaring rather pointedly at Jack, "We need to get you dressed and ready. It would be inappropriate for the bride to be seen in a state of undress before her wedding, even by her best friend."

"But," Jack protested, though he didn't know why – perhaps it was indignant offense at being told what to do, "I've already seen everything…"

"Then you aren't missing a thing – and you're lucky Anna is so open with you, 'cause I'd have knocked your block off for that. Ladies only. Scoot." Fiona added.

"But…you've got ninety minutes!"

"A woman's beauty," Neve explained with an air of elegant grace, "acknowledges no time limit. Out."

"But-"

"Out!" Anna added, stamping a foot and pointing to the door, mustering as stern an expression as she could to mask the bubbling of mirth in her chest at how red-faced and sulky Jack looked. Her head followed him as, hunched and indiscernibly grumbling nonsense under his breath, he stalked towards the door and roughly closed it behind him.

"He's such a child." Fiona muttered irritably, shaking her head.

"Hey now," Anna lightly chided her, defensive of her recently-vacated friend, "he might be occasionally immature, snarky and sometimes downright inappropriate, but he's also one hell of a best friend. He means well, so I'll be having no more of that. Bride's orders."

Fiona flushed a little as she caught Neve's gaze of agreement. "Duly noted. So, shall we begin?" she conceded.

"Yes, let's begin," Neve added, while a grinning Ariel nodded accordingly, "though I feel we do not need to do much to make Anna look more beautiful than she already is."

Ariel stiffened, and she quickly darted over to the bed to rest the box of cosmetic items upon it, before beaming and making a series of complicated hand gestures that were far too rapid for Anna to register. "Um…sorry, what was that?" the bride-to-be mumbled awkwardly, still flushing a bright red at her leader's compliment.

Neve and Fiona both chuckled at the same time, with the red-haired assistant explaining, "She said –  _when we've finished, Kristoff is going to faint."_

It was then that a thought occurred to Anna, arousing a mild sense of guilt and disappointment in her chest that brought down her smile to a forlorn line. Her gaze fell from the ruby-haired assistant to her feet, and echoing her prior consternation her fingers began to thoughtfully play with each other.

A hand rested itself upon her right shoulder, and she glanced up into the youthful features of the bright-red haired medic, whose concerned expression compensated perfectly for her inability to speak.

"I'm okay, Ariel. It's just…I would have loved for my sister to be here. Please, don't get me wrong – I absolutely adore what you've done, and everyone has been just wonderful…but even though we've not been together for over six years, I still care for and miss her. I just…wish she could be right here with us. No matter what happened, or what's going to happen, she'll always be my sister and a part of me." she explained quietly, biting her lip and blinking to stifle a morose tear.

Ariel smiled sadly, and yanked her into a comforting hug before pulling back to communicate with further gestures – translated by Fiona, of course.

"She says –  _she'll always be with you, and she's here in spirit. Don't be sad, Anna."_

The thing was, it occurred to Anna that Ariel was one hundred percent right – even if Elsa was not physically there with her in the room sharing with her unrestrained joy, the memory of who she used to be before whatever trauma occurred to enact such isolation was still present in her heart, cheering her on.

And in the end, on her big day, that was all that mattered.

* * *

 

_Time: 11:15_

 

"Dude. Would you  _stop?_ " Hiccup groaned exasperatedly.

Jack had spent the past hour and twenty minutes pacing the Red Wing's hallway, having been verbally and forcibly evicted from Anna's room by three headstrong, stubborn women. Despite it being Anna's wedding day and therefore, understandably, all the nervousness and anxiety should belong to her, the irony was that he was equally fretful.

Not to mention the fact that Hiccup, leaning casually against the concrete wall and impeccably clad in his Ghost uniform, and the patiently waiting Toothless – who had somehow agreed to wearing a long strip of black material around his neck as a sort of tie, and quite frankly looked  _adorable –_ were two living reminders of just how real all of it was.

His best friend was getting  _married._

Needless to say, his answer was a non-verbal noise.

"Did you just grunt at me?"

"No, I made a noncommittal noise, due to how I can't really articulate how I'm feeling right now." Jack said.

"Ah."

"Yeah." Jack added.

"Mm."

"See? Noncommittal noises. Work great."

"Uh-huh," Hiccup drawled, evidently ignoring the  _now-you've-got-it_ click of Jack's fingers, "but seriously, you're acting like a groom before the wedding, which is funny 'cause you're not the groom."

"Oh, gee. You think?" Jack snapped sarcastically, "Anyway, just 'cause I'm not the groom doesn't mean I don't get nervous."

"Hey," Hiccup said, holding his hands up in surrender, "don't bite my head off. I'm just letting you know that if the guy giving the bride away is more nervous than the actual  _bride,_  they need to chill out. No pun intended."

Jack stopped mid pace and pointed one end of his staff at the rider. "Your logic is flawed – we both know thanks to Kozmotis that the person who is historically supposed to give away the bride is her father, and we both know how fathers feel about their daughters getting married."

"Alright, I get it. Look, I'm just saying-"

"I know!" Jack shouted, sharp enough for even Toothless to cast him an unimpressed look, "I know."

Sighing deeply, he moved to stand by Hiccup and leaned against the wall, with one foot crossing the other and his hands resting on top of his vertical staff. "I just…she's close to my heart, you know? It took ages for Kristoff to work up the courage to propose, and then finding out that he kept her away from combat – and their relationship  _surviving_  that-"

"Well, we kind of knew that." Hiccup commented, and then added, "I mean, there are only so many times she can be out of danger in a mission before people start noticing. Surprised it took her this long, to be honest. We just kept quiet about it."

"Exactly. I just…"

"You're really happy for her, and because you're her best friend, you're nervous as hell too. Like I said, I get it." Hiccup observed – and it struck Jack how observant, wise and level-headed his team-mate truly was.

"Bingo. You'd be the same if Toothless was all dressed up and getting married." Jack remarked.

Hiccup shot him a funny look replete with a cocked eyebrow, and both men glanced over at Toothless, who returned their looks with an expression that screamed  _"Sorry, what? I wasn't listening…"_ – and after a few seconds of silent staring into the dragon's confused eyes, both men snorted into cackling laughter. Hiccup slapped his knee while Jack doubled over, wondering if the rider too had the mental image of an unimpressed, scowling Toothless in a wedding dress.

He was still laughing as the door to Anna's room opened, and as he looked up, his breath was stolen forever – Anna looked  _beautiful._

She kept her impeccable braided bun in place, with the streak of white serving to break up the strawberry blonde. Her eyelashes flicked off to the side, with an ivory finish on her nose, cheeks, chin and forehead, rose pink blusher and an identical pink adorning her lips. Combined with the elegant wedding dress that flowed around her despite her attempts to hold it up from the floor, she looked  _radiant._

"Woah…" Jack could only manage.

"How do I look?" she smiled shyly, but Jack, Hiccup and even Toothless were too dumbfounded to speak – Hiccup even had to reach out and close Toothless' jaw for him.

"Well…say something…" she pleaded as Neve, Fiona and Ariel filed past her, wearing smug smirks upon their features.

"You look…" Hiccup began.

"…like I wish I had a girlfriend…" Jack finished, to nods of approval from the chocolate haired rider.

Anna flushed a deep red and bashfully looked down to the floor, causing hearty laughs from the raven haired leader.

"I'd say we were successful," she said in a voice broken by mirth, "but it would be a good idea if we started moving. Hiccup?"

"Huh?" the rider mumbled.

"The bouquet." Neve said pointedly.

"The…" he began, then stiffened as the world came back to him, "oh right! The bouquet!"

He quickly trotted to Toothless' right side, and drew out a bouquet of assorted wildflowers from Greenland's surface. Filled with purples, pinks, whites and blues, the bouquet caused a gleeful gasp from the bride to be, who dropped one half of her skirt to cover her mouth in surprise.

"It's…beautiful…" she murmured as she took it from the rider's offering hand.

"A beautiful bouquet for a beautiful bride." Neve remarked, to ardent nods from everyone in the hallway. "Now, shall we?"

Sensing it was his moment to shine, Toothless trotted over to stand beside a beaming Anna, and with Jack's helping hand she ascended onto the saddle. Pausing so Neve could make a quick adjustment of the bridal dress so that nothing was visible nor would get caught in places it should not be, Hiccup and Jack led the walking procession along the Red Wing.

As they rounded the corner into the main hallway that connected all colour wings, Jack clearly heard the catching of breath from his best friend behind her at the sight of hundreds of abnormals, all standing respectfully on either side of them, wearing beams of joy. Casting a glance down to Anna's  _'horse'_ , Jack chuckled at the expression of deep pride on Toothless' face at being chosen to carry the bride to her marriage.

It was when he heard a sob-suppressing sniff that he thought to himself –  _Anna…if you think this is good? You ain't seen nothin' yet._

* * *

 

_Time: 12:40_

 

Kristoff had to admit, Kozmotis had done a good job.

The grey Ghost had chosen Ittoqqortoormiit's existing heliport as the place to conduct the ceremony given that it was the flattest area in the village, and had arranged seating for at least fifty people to be directly present at the ceremony. Unfortunately at least twenty times that amount wanted to attend, so the chairs were reserved for the Ghosts, Neve, Fiona, Ariel and Hiro, along with the kindergarten children under her care and their families – anyone else wishing to attend had no option but stand surrounding the heliport, but nobody seemed to be bothered by that.

After all, it was a gloriously blue sky, and they were all on dry, natural land rather than manmade asphalt.

Neve had pitched in too – her gift of being able to communicate with nature in addition to animal life, meant that she could  _'will'_  plants to grow – so one week beforehand, many went harvesting grass seeds from areas to the west, planted and watered them, and then stood by as Neve worked her magic to create a lush, green field. It probably wouldn't survive the winter months, but it would serve its purpose.

In addition, she had created a 'wedding arch' under which the marriage would be conducted. Once more utilising her powers, she had encouraged the growth of two young trees – again, from seeds harvested in southern Greenland – directed them to curve and entwine with each other a foot and a half above her head, and nestled different types of wildflower to create a vibrant, colourful wedding arch worthy of a goddess.

Since that was exactly what Anna was to him, a goddess of beauty, bravery, warmth and caring.

On the other hand, he felt like the god of butterflies, anxiety, panic and self-consciousness – especially with fifty seated members of the congregation and at  _least_  a thousand other people surrounding the ceremony fifteen feet away, and the fact that she was late. That being said – goddesses recognise no time, and the detail of the whole ceremony was kept under tight wraps, so he wasn't going to hold it against her.

Stood in front of the arch, he released one of his hands previously held in front of him in a futile attempt to control the mousey blonde hair that tickled his forehead with the light breeze, and huffed when it turned into a failed endeavour, much like the fifty or so attempts before it.

"I still don't understand why you chose me to be best man." Kozmotis spoke quietly while he stood by the burly blonde, his golden eyes fixed upon the southern gap in the crowd where, eventually, a dragon-riding Anna would appear.

"Well, you told us that the job of a best man was to fight off suitors that would try to steal the bride – and let's face it, no-one's stupid enough to fight you." Kristoff smirked at him.

Kozmotis turned and shot him a mildly unimpressed look. "You weren't really paying attention, were you? Yes, the best man was there to fight off suitors…yet also to defend against the bride's family in case they wanted to take her back…or prevent the bride's escape. You do realise that mentality was from a time when  _marriage-by-kidnapping_ was perfectly acceptable?"

Kristoff shrugged. "Yeah, but the point still stands. Besides, Anna wanted Jack to give her away – so if you like, you can consider yourself the back-up plan."

He heard a grunt of anger from the dark Ghost, and as he flicked his hazel eyes towards his best man, he could easily spot the muscles in his slender jaw as they tensed. "She should have picked someone better than Overland."

"Huh," Kristoff hummed noncommittally, "Hiccup only recently graduated to first name terms with you, and now Jack has been demoted to surname only. You're not still pissed off with him about sleeping with that Valkyrie, are you?"

Kozmotis didn't look at him, but the stiffening of his entire body along with the contemptuous lift of his chin told Kristoff all he needed to know. "Yes, I am."

"Why? We did order him to-"

"No, you suggested it. There was no order. He could easily have refused, and yet he chose to sully his hands, think with his reproductive organ and sleep with a filthy Valkyrie. He has betrayed our kind and infected himself."

"Oof," Kristoff winced sharply, "that's a bit harsh, don't you think? He did get some useful information."

"No, I don't, and whoop-dee –fucking-doo." Kozmotis answered bluntly as he shook his head, and then pointed a slender finger to the gap in the crowd, announcing to him, "but I do think we should end this topic right now – here comes the bride."

Kristoff followed his ally's finger towards the opposite end of the ceremony space, and he felt his heart stop beating, taking with it his breath and his ability to think.

Dismounting Toothless with Jack's aid was the woman who looked every inch the goddess he thought her to be, wearing the flowing white hand-made bridal dress that fitted her perfectly, clutching a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers identical to the ones adorning the wedding arch, and an elegant veil covering her face. With one hand hooked around Jack's arm and the other clutching the spray of flowers, he watched as she slowly, methodically, but hopefully  _happily_ made her way through the centre of the seats amid gasps and murmurs of  _"she looks amazing", "Oh my, what a beautiful dress"_ and a childish squeal of  _"Look, doesn't aunty Anna look pretty!"_ that could only belong to Jamie.

Of course, the little pipsqueak-with-his-tooth-missing was right on the money – his wife-to-be looked  _radiant,_ and it took him several seconds to realise that, with a sensation that he would never breathe again, and a weakness that gripped his legs, the most amazing woman in the world was walking up the aisle to marry  _him_ , because she loved  _him._

Lucky was a criminal understatement, and not only that – thanks to some nifty breathing by Toothless and Hiccup's skill as an engineer, some of the 'presidential silverware' had been melted down to create two wedding rings. They were only modest…but Kristoff didn't care. They actually had proper  _rings._

He was so enraptured by his bride that he hadn't registered her completion of the walk, and was standing in front of him with a beam that anyone could clearly see through the veil. Blinking as reality came back to him in many senses of the word, he offered a stunned "Hi…" to greet her.

"Hey you…" she murmured back, adding, "You look good in uniform."

"You look…you look…wow…I…have seen beautiful, but you're, um, beautifuller than beautiful." He murmured, and then gasped with widened eyed horror, "not that I mean you're fuller, you don't look f-fuller you look…more beautiful…oh God what am I saying…" he finished, stammering awkwardly as he scratched the nape of his neck.

Anna giggled shyly, "Thank you!"

"Well," Neve announced loudly, and it occurred to the startled Ghost leader that she had easily managed to get under the arch without him noticing, "now that Kristoff has been reduced from a stoic leader to an adorable mess…"

Laughter erupted from the congregation and the crowd as Kristoff flushed an embarrassed red – especially when he heard Kozmotis chuckling behind him.

"…I think it's time to begin."

He heard the shorter abnormal leader inhale a deep breath, and braced himself – the time had come.

"Now, Kozmotis already educated me on the finer points of a marriage ceremony, but I felt that as this is no ordinary wedding, I wrote a speech of my own. We live in dark times, existing underground in a neutral zone sandwiched between two great powers. Our kind is hunted, captured and imprisoned for no other reason than being different, and there are times when the darkness is so vast that we cannot see the light."

"And yet, standing here before us is an example of such a bright light in the darkness. The union of two people, who through their love, bravery and selflessness have shown us what it is truly like to be happy in a time of great pain. They have shown us that despite everything, happiness is still around us and beauty can be found if we only look for it. If the bonds we share with each other are even half as strong as the one shared between Kristoff Bjorgman and Anna Snowfield…"

Neve paused, both to whet her dry mouth and to deliver the final line.

"…there is nothing, no force on earth that can break us."

Quiet applause and ardent murmurs of assent erupted around them, and Kristoff felt his lips curl into an even wider beam than he ever thought possible.

"Thus, it gives me great pleasure to speak these next words." she finished, and then immediately addressed someone in the front row. "Mr Fitzherbert, if you would be so kind?"

Kristoff's eyes flicked to the right as, clad proudly and smartly in his scout camouflage uniform, Eugene rose from the first row of chairs and walked up to the almost-betrothed, winking at Anna and then respectfully inclining his head to the burly leader. He slipped his fingers into the breast pocket of his jacket and fished out two rings of differing sizes, offered the large one to Anna and the smaller one to Kristoff, and once his task was complete he bowed lightly to Neve before returning to his chair.

"Kristoff Bjorgman, do you take Anna Snowfield to be your wife? Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and honour her all the days of your life, until death do you part?"

It was an easy answer to a simple question, and one that he spoke with all the certainty and honesty in the world as he carefully and delicately slipped the ring onto Anna's waiting finger, acutely conscious of his superior strength.

"I do."

"Anna Snowfield, do you take Kristoff to be your husband? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and honour him all the days of your life, until death do you part?"

Anna's answer was equally genuine with no hesitation, and one that filled his heart with so much joy it felt like it would burst as he felt the warmed metal slowly kiss his finger as she slid it along.

"I do."

Neve's voice softened, but the strength within remained. "Then, by the status given to me as leader of our kind, I am truly honoured to pronounce you husband and wife. I'm sure this goes without saying – you may kiss the bride."

Raucous, deafening applause broke out with such volume that he was sure someone in England heard it, but he didn't care. Stepping forward, he pinched the veil and lifted it to reveal Anna's beautiful, angelic, tear-stained and beaming face gazing up at him, and with a happy grin that broke only to apply a feather-soft kiss to her lips, he sealed the union. Whoops joined the applause along with a two-fingered whistle that could only belong to Jack, and as he parted from her soft kiss and gazed into her moistened sapphire eyes, he felt like the happiest, luckiest man alive.

In their history written with blood, the union of two Ghosts as husband and wife was written with tears of joy.

* * *

 

_Time: 17:14_

 

As it turned out, the crimson dome-shaped objects that Eugene purchased from the ill-fated store owner were loudspeakers, specifically designed for iPods such as Jack's. Therefore, early into the planning of Anna's wedding and the following reception, he had been asked – or rather, heavily encouraged – to utilise his iPod for the reception.

Of course, he didn't need the encouragement – and as the celebration progressed well after the four o'clock sunset, in the dark broken by several warm flickering fires ignited by both the blushing bride and Toothless…boy, was it worth it.

Having never heard music from before the Third War, due to being raised almost exclusively on multi-instrumentalist A.I. artists such as  _Unitas_  or  _One Above All_ , the reaction to songs written by long dead artists had been initially wary – but after more than a few bouncy beats, the infectious rhythms had almost the entire crowd dancing in a remarkably short time. In particular, a song called  _Shake It Off_  seemed to energise Anna, and after Jack informed her as to whom the artist was, her immediate reaction was  _"_ this  _is Taylor Swift? Kristoff. Dancefloor. Now."_

The partly terrified face of the Ghost leader as he was dragged into the centre of the crowd had Jack in stitches, but he along with everyone else clapped along when the strawberry blonde, with her wedding dress flowing and whipping with every single dance step showed everyone exactly how it was done. Even Kozmotis, who stood at the very edge of the crowd with his arms folded across his chest – oddly, well away from Jack – smiled and gently bobbed his head to the beat.

It was almost too good to be true; everyone looked so happy. Hiro danced with Anna at one stage while Kristoff, in dire need of a break, snuck away to engage Kozmotis in conversation. Fiona was bent down and holding Jamie's sister Sophie's hands as they gently jigged, while Ariel boogied away with Eugene, easily capable of matching the flamboyant scout step for step.

It wasn't long after  _that_ , that Jack impulsively enlisted Eugene and Hiccup's aid for a roaring lip-synch performance of a song called  _Shoot to Thrill,_ with him as the 'vocalist' complete with staff-slash-microphone, Eugene on air-guitar and Hiccup on air-bass. Having listened to the song rather extensively, Jack knew the words and the expressions to go with – though he was proud of how quickly his two grinning "band-mates" picked up the idea and played along with as much gusto as they could summon, with one instance of them leaning their backs against his shoulders during the guitar solo showing exactly how involved they were.

The cheers and deafening claps as the song reached its finale, with more than a few whistles from the bride and groom were more than enough to compensate for the embarrassment he would undoubtedly feel tomorrow – probably not as much as Neve, whose passionate movements and head-whips were a dead giveaway that she was more than partial to classic rock. From polite, elegant and discrete to energetic rock chick in seconds.

Of course, weddings were occasions ripe for mischief, and this one was no exception.

Jack learned early on that shortly after the union, it was customary for the bride to stand with her back to the bridesmaids and toss the bouquet behind her with all of her strength. With Fiona, Ariel, and Sophie waiting patiently with their bodies tensed, it had been clear that Anna would follow tradition.

The only problem was that Anna threw it too hard.

Engaged in conversation with Hiccup just as Anna's arms dipped in preparation, Jack failed to notice how the chocolate haired rider's expression had changed from anticipating smiles to chuckling mirth as he watched the action unfold, and it was when he felt a hand grip his T-shirt and yank him to the left, that something light impacted against his chest and fell into his reflexively waiting hands. Upon receiving a rather irritated glare from the Ghost second-in-command, a smirking Eugene pointedly glanced down at Jack's hands whilst wiggling his eyebrows – and it wasn't until he followed the silent direction whilst laughter echoed around him that he realised  _he caught the bouquet._

Meaning Jack was the one next to be married – and judging by Anna's rather mischievous smile that returned his bewildered gaze, that was what she intended.

It went without saying that Eugene received a sharp slap on the back of his head in revenge.

Eventually, all good things must come to an end, if only to make way for  _more_  good things.

Shortly before food was served outdoors on tables brought to the surface from  _Sanctuary's_ cafeteria – a collection of vegetables grown in  _Sanctuary's_  hydroponics wing and outdoors, fish collected by Toothless and spoils of several conservative hunts – Anna had eagerly unwrapped her wedding presents while they waited at the table. The chocolate that Jack purchased from New Burgess went down an absolute treat, with the bride stuffing a few squares in her excited mouth before she even finished thanking him. Eugene had finished sharpening the knives, and with Hiccup's help crafted two black sheathes that attached to the belt of her combat pants at the base of her spine – and true to form, she successfully ignited the air around the blades and dazzled her guests with an elegant flourish as she spun them around her fingers. She also received a book on art from Kozmotis' personal collection, and an excellent upper-body drawing of her in her husband's arms, her eyes closed in contentment while his hands protectively embraced her from Hiccup.

There were tears, many hugs and even more utterances of gratitude before the food was laid.

There was one other aspect of tradition that Jack was dreading, however, as he sat patiently waiting for the last plate of food to be laid – the speech. Kozmotis had refused to do such a thing, whether it was out of self-consciousness or simply the desire to remain unseen he didn't say, so the task fell to Jack to either deliver a shining soliloquy or crash and burn like an idiot.

He rose from the table and cleared his throat – but it was a pointless exercise as he knew for a fact he could not be heard over the loud conversations of fifteen hundred people. He glanced awkwardly at Anna, whose face wore an expression of  _"go on then"_ emphasised by a "shoo" gesture of her fingers.

"Excuse me…" he said in a voice that was far too quiet even for a silent congregation to hear, and it was a tell-tale sign how speaking to six people was one thing, goofing off to an equally energetic and dancing crowd was another, but it was a completely different concept when it would involve over a thousand eyes staring back at him, hanging on his every word.

It wasn't until, having caught Fiona's eye one table over prompting the vice-leader to rise to her feet, stand on top of her chair, suck in a deep breath and bellow  _"QUIET!"_ at the top of her lungs that the conversations and laughter died down. Unabashed by the incredulous stares, she yelled out a  _"THANK YOU!"_ and took her seat once more.

Eyeing her with wary surprise, Jack called loudly, "Remind me never to piss  _her_ off…" to quiet and short laughter. He took a moment to glance at several hundred pairs of eyes all fixed upon him, feeling a swell of anxiety and acute self-consciousness that threatened to overwhelm him and force him to seat himself out of embarrassment – but he fought it down. Speeches were the hallmarks of wedding meals, and he was determined to make it count.

So, with a deep breath and a quick swig of water to lubricate his dry throat, he began to speak and hoped to the stars that he did Anna proud.

"I've never believed in destiny. I always thought that the future is what you make it, that your path is not laid out for you and your life is a series of coincidences, accidents, situations and choices – so I never truly believed in things that are 'meant to be'…" he spoke loudly, and as he turned towards the two newlyweds, he felt a warm smile blossom upon his pale features when he gestured to them. "…until I met these two knuckleheads."

"On the one hand, you've got a big oaf with a heart of gold, and fists that could punch through a wall without chipping a nail – and we all know how  _disastrous_  that can be. On the other, we've got a woman whose spirit, bravery and compassion is rivalled only by the fire which she wields, and the love they share – two people that, against all odds, found their way into each other's arms."

Quickly bending down to retrieve his plastic cup of water, he held it high as a toast.

"I believe that Kristoff and Anna Bjorgman are a shining example of two people destined to be together, and if what I hear is true, then I hope for many happy centuries for the two of you…because you both deserve it."

Loud mutters of "hear hear" erupted across the congregation, and more than a few raised glasses signalled their ardent agreement. Blushing deeply, Anna mouthed  _"thank you"_ before exchanging a loving glance with her husband. However, Jack was not finished – far be it for him to not crack a joke.

"For the record, I nominate Jack Junior as the name of your first child. I will also accept Jacqueline." he smirked, sipping his water to roaring laughter and an exasperated  _"keep dreaming, Frostbite"_ from Kristoff.

As far as speeches went, he mentally gave himself a seven out of ten as he sat back down amid cheers and applause, but at least he didn't make a fool of himself.

* * *

 

_Time: 18:00_

 

"What's the matter, Neve?" asked Jack, as the raven haired woman thoughtfully poked her salad with a fork.

Forty minutes into the meal and the atmosphere was light and happy, with murmured conversations echoing throughout the countryside. Kristoff and Anna were deep in talk about their future together and what being married meant to them, while Eugene and Hiccup were deep in discussion about the finer points of leather armour and Agatha's ability to cause serious facial injury in between regaling him with stories of Scout Team Red's exploits across the US. In between answering the occasional question from his best friend, including pointed queries about anyone that might or might not have caught his eye, and strangely ignored by Kozmotis despite several attempts to chat, Jack had taken to observe the goings-on around the table and the immediate area.

The most notable things he picked up on were Hiro's exuberant and audible talks with Fiona one table over about his plans for Baymax and how he really needs to get hold of some self-healing antimicrobial polymer with a nano-textured surface – or, as Fiona called it,  _nothing-like-that-round-these-parts-polymer_  – Ariel's attempts to teach sign language to Jamie…

…and the deep frown of consternation etched upon Neve's pale features.

"Hmm?" she muttered, absent-mindedly looking up from her oft-poked meal.

"Your lettuce, you've been turning it over and over for the past ten minutes. Is something wrong?" Jack prodded.

She blinked a few times as she registered his question, and then quickly adopted her customary warm smile to hopefully cover the light blush of being caught. "No, I am fine. Don't worry about me."

"I'm with Jack," Anna added, having been alerted by Kristoff to potential sadness at the table, "We can all tell when you've got something on your mind."

"It doesn't matter, Miss… _Mrs_  Bjorgman. This is your day, my dear. Don't spend a single minute worrying about me."

"Tough." Kristoff chirped up. "If you're not happy, then we're not happy. Come on, let us help."

Murmurs of assent joined Kristoff's prodding. Jack watched Neve's hazel eyes flick from Ghost to Ghost, and judging by the deep sigh of polite exasperation that escaped her rosy lips, she knew she had been beaten.

"This feels…wrong." she spoke quietly.

"What do you mean…the wedding?" Anna asked, and Jack easily detected a subtle crack in her voice. Having Neve officiate the ceremony meant the world to the strawberry blonde, so for someone she respected to be so blunt…

"No!" Neve protested quickly as she waved her hands, sensing the ambiguity of her first words. "No, no my dear. The wedding was perfect. You and Mr Bjorgman are a match made in heaven, and such a celebration has been a proud and bright moment in such dark times. Please do not mistake my words for lack of gratitude – there are no words for how overjoyed I am for the both of you."

"Then what is it?" Kozmotis asked.

Neve took another deep breath. Jack watched as several frowns appeared on and then disappeared from her porcelain features, and he was struck with the notion that she was now carefully choosing her words.

"I am uncomfortable with the knowledge that, as I sit here indulging in the fruits of our labour and semi-freedom, there are those who are not so lucky to be here, that do not know the taste of clean air, hearing laughter and partaking in music from decades ago. People who still bloom, and are taken away by Unity for whatever horrid fate awaits them. I feel like I am abandoning them to torment while I sit here, eating salad that we have grown in our home. It feels…wrong."

Silence descended like a tangible fog around the table while each member considered her words carefully, and after a time Neve pursed her lips and sighed through her nose, before apologetically mumbling, "I am sorry. I do not wish to-"

"I agree." Jack blurted out. Instantly, heads whipped towards him and burned him with questioning gazes. He didn't know why it came so easily, but he agreed with every word Neve said. Confidence blossomed once more within him under the table's scrutiny, and when he spoke, he did so with purpose.

"I'm a Ghost, just like everyone on this table, so I'm pretty sure I speak for everyone including boss man Kristoff. I've been feeling at a loss for what to do, like I'm a soldier without a mission – funny, 'cause that's just what I am. I don't know how to settle down…or even if I  _want_ to. All I know is: I want to put my skillset to use again. I want to save our people, teach them to control their powers, and help them find freedom. Not hide in a bunker until Unity or the Alliance finds us."

He flopped back into his chair and stared thoughtfully at what was left of his reindeer steak, having lost the appetite.

"Then maybe it's time we got back on duty." Kristoff abruptly spoke, eyeing each member in turn. "Maybe we've all enjoyed a nice long break, but it's time to get back to work."

"We'll set sail on the  _Star…"_ Kozmotis added.

"…with a skeleton crew of volunteers…" Hiccup chirped.

"…and while the Valkyries are still on leave…" Eugene continued.

"…we rise again, one more time." Anna finished.

Jack watched Neve, whose eyes shimmered with tears as she held a hand over her mouth to stifle a wide smile. "You all truly are the greatest of our kind. Thank you." She murmured with pride.

"Eh," Jack waved dismissively. "Pretty sure we've been having the same thoughts for a while now. We just weren't sure if you felt the same." he finished, to ardent nods and murmurs of agreement.

Kristoff clapped his hands together to garner everyone's attention, and draped an arm over Anna's shoulders as he reached over to lift his cup into the air.

"A toast – to returning to duty." He proclaimed proudly.

It was in that moment, as firm echoes of Kristoff's announcement resounded across the table, that Jack felt for the first time in forever, things were looking up.

* * *

 

 _T_ _ime: 19:30_

"I think," Kristoff murmured as he gazed down into Anna's loving, sapphire pools, "we're now at my favourite part of the wedding."

Following the spiritual declaration between the members of the table, Kristoff had asked for a week's grace before they left so he and Anna could get used to the idea of being married, in addition to finding a replacement for Anna as the carer of the base's children. Neve replied that a week was more than acceptable as she would have to prepare Fiona for leading on her own, and Hiccup added that he would need to ensure the  _Star_ was shipshape before they got underway. Not to mention that even if they wanted to resume their long-term mission, it was predicated on whether or not anyone volunteered to crew their ship. Still, the mood was decidedly optimistic about their chances.

Yet one final thing was left, before they could consider their marriage ceremony complete, and it was for that reason they bade their goodbyes and quickly made their way back to their room in the Red Wing.

"Oh?" she purred as she draped her arms around his neck and smirked coyly, only too aware of what he meant, "And what would that be?"

Grinning, Kristoff leaned down and brushed his lips against hers while mumbling, "Getting you out of that dress."

Anna felt a blossom of desiring warmth in her heart rivalled only by the heat pooling in her abdomen, and with an adorably shy titter she stood on her tiptoes so he could unzip her dress more easily…and plant a tender kiss onto his lips.

"Can I ask you a question?" he murmured low. Kissing his chin, Anna uttered a quiet  _mmhm_ of assent as she buried herself in the sensation of his skin on her lips.

"Jack mentioned children earlier…how do you feel about us having a child?"

It was a question that had been sat at the back of her mind for quite a few months, one that she hadn't uttered for fear of what he might say despite silently making her choice. Cupping his face, she pressed one light kiss to his lips before answering.

"I would love to be a mother, Kristoff. I love children, and I want nothing more than to have one of our own someday."

She sighed as she stroked his eyebrow with her thumb, and hoped he would understand what she was about to say.

"But not yet. Losing my parents was horrible for me, and with how risky our missions can be…I don't want to put our child through that. Maybe when things are a little safer…and besides…"

Looking into his eyes, she knew him well enough to tell that he was silently agreeing with everything – but with such an emotional topic preceding the consummation of their marriage, she was intent on bringing back the passion.

"…we both know it's harder for abnormals to conceive, and we've got at least three hundred years to live, so there's no reason we can't wait and have a little fun along the way…" she murmured seductively as she stepped away from him, slid the straps from her shoulders and let the dress slide down her body to pool at the floor. Standing temptingly before him, she felt the heat inside her burn with a greater intensity, knowing that her husband just found out she was totally naked under the dress.

"Sounds good to me." Kristoff smiled as he pulled the T-shirt off, and tossed it aside as he surged towards her, embracing her firmly yet gently while kissing and sucking at her neck.

"Oh, that feels good…" she breathed, her eyes closed with contentment as she felt miniature pools of pleasure spread through her skin from each kiss. Fingering the button of his combat pants that would allow her access to that which she desired most, she bathed in the passion of the moment, of the sensation of his lips against her neck as moans slipped from her throat, and his hands feathering themselves delicately across her naked spine.

"Well then," he whispered against her skin – and she could  _feel_  him smirking, "allow me to make it better."

She barely had time to react, save for a squeal of shock as, in one fluid movement, he lunged down, slid both hands between her legs, parted them and bodily  _lifted_ her into the air. Wide-eyed with surprise, her hands shot down to his head for fear of falling, and it was only then that she noticed how her sensitive core was six feet in the air and inches from his waiting mouth.

"Sorry for scaring you," he chuckled slyly, "but I've wanted to try this for  _months_."

He wasted no time and leaned his hear forward to press his lips against her aroused bud, and she let loose a loud, high pitched cry – realising that the residual burst of adrenaline at his abrupt pick-up was heightening the storm of pleasure coursing through her. His tongue flicked at her bud while occasionally sliding downwards to delve into her entrance, and her legs tensed around his shoulders while he kissed and sucked passionately. It was when she felt one of his hands feather itself around her buttock cheeks that she realised – he was  _holding her up with one hand._

To say that, combined with the ebbing adrenaline and the heated passion of the moment, his impromptu display of positional knowledge was accelerating her first orgasm would not be far from the truth – especially when her moaning and breathless panting was becoming more and more uncontrollable, her hips were instinctively bucking her entrance against his hungry mouth, and she was having trouble restraining herself from accidentally setting fire to his hair.

"Geez," she mewled, "a little warning next time, 'kay? And stop showing off!"

"Sorry," he chuckled against her entrance, the vibrations of which intensified her pleasure, "if you don't like it, I won't do it again."

"I didn't say  _that_." She gasped as another shock coursed through her abdomen. "Just put me down on the bed before I…you know…all over your face."

Muttering something about  _"whatever the bride wants"_ , she felt her world move backwards – and resisted the urge to slap his head with the knowledge that he could have put her down beforehand, but chose to get an extra few seconds of making her moan hotly into the air – as he placed his hands on her upper and lower back. She allowed herself to fall backwards onto them, and was gently lowered onto the bed as though she was the most precious person in the world.

With the sensation of soft blankets kissing her naked spine, she watched with yearning as he drew himself up from the bed to deprive himself of his combat pants, and unable to resist the urge to maintain her dizzying high, she slid one hand down to her core and began to slowly slide her fingers up and down. Closing her eyes with breathless gasps, she bit her lip as her back arched slightly with each wave of delight pulsing from between her widely parted thighs, and smiled with anticipation when she heard the sound of material hitting the floor, and felt the bed dip beside her.

She opened her eyes, revealing Kristoff's face hovering above her, wearing a loving smile and a gentle yet ravenous look in his eyes. "Hello there, handsome." she giggled, and cupped his face with her hands.

"Hello, beautiful." he whispered back. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," she answered simply, "let's go."

Her permission given, she moaned his name as his tip shyly pressed itself against her entrance, a moan that became an outright cry of delight when he fully slid his length inside her.

The sensation was infinitely more intense than anything she had ever felt when making love to him, even on occasions where she rode him for all he was worth. The heat in her stomach was incomparable as was the storm of pleasure cascading through her entire being – which only grew as he started slowly but determinedly thrusting inside her. This was different – it was their first time as a married couple, during a period of nothing but unbreakable love.

She felt her core contract against his length with each push, and reflexively arched her back to offer her pert and aroused breasts towards him. Her eyes closed in acute enjoyment; she felt the heat of his mouth encircling her right nipple as he hungrily teased it with his tongue, only adding to her building orgasm.

"Fuck…Kristoff…" she panted, "you feel so amazing…"

"Really?" he whispered as he turned his attention to her other nipple.

"Yeah…" she gasped, writhing under his experienced touch while her hips instinctively matched his slow thrusts, "it's like you're filling every inch of me…"

She felt his hands slide themselves to either side of her head, and she opened her eyes to his handsome, lightly sweating face – whether from his actions or the heat she was emanating, she didn't know.

What she  _did_ know, as she pulled him down to sink her lips into his with a passionate, messy, hungry kiss was that his thrusts were becoming faster and deeper. "Fuck…I'm coming already…" she groaned with an increasingly high pitch, and as her core uncontrollably gripped his length with each inward push, she wrapped her legs around him with the single-minded desire to pull him further inside.

Releasing his lips in favour of loud cries and gasps for air, she felt him rest his forehead against hers, heard him pant heavily and quickly, and bathed in the fiery storm inside that built and built to unimaginable levels – until, in a moment that heralded the spread of electricity throughout her shuddering, writhing body from her sweating head to her curling toes, where she clamped down upon his length and squealed his name to the room as stars shot across her vision, she reached an explosive orgasm that encompassed her entire being.

"Fucking hell…" she squeaked brokenly, "that was incredible…"

"Only the best for my wife." Kristoff murmured coyly as he stroked her temple with his thumb.

"Well if that's… _fuck…_ the case…" she continued through gasps as the aftershocks followed her dizzying orgasm, "the best means you coming too…"

With a huff of great effort, followed by a yelp as he withdrew his wet length from inside her, she shuffled herself up the bed and turned onto her left side.

"Which means you don't… _aaah…_ stop making love to me until you come." she ordered, craning her head back to cast him a lidded, smirking gaze.

Kristoff grinned as he said  _"that's my girl"_ in a low voice. She slid one hand under her pillow as she felt the bed dip behind her, followed by a hand that gently lifted her willing leg. This time, her permission was silent, and with a high pitched moan she felt his length slide itself inside her once more.

His chest pressed itself against her back as he held her right leg aloft, and she felt the pillow rise under her flushed head as he slid his arm under it. He thrust slowly and carefully into her, the change in position allowing him to reach places desperate for his touch. He groaned as he gently kissed her ear, causing her right hand to hold the side of his face while she turned hers to plant a sweet, passionate, loving kiss upon his lips, while her other hand slid down from the pillow to manipulate and tease her aching bud.

It was then that she was reminded of just how controlling their sex was – not of her, but of him. Each thrust was careful, every touch was calculated, and every kiss was restrained so as not to hurt her. She knew that if he gave into the desire to push hard and fast, he could severely injure her. It was why he always took a while to orgasm – as he was constantly mentally holding himself back. If she was in the mood for lustful passion, of blowing off steam or simply wanted it hard, invariably she was on top whether it be straddling his hips, or his face as she caressed his length with her mouth.

He was so protective for her, and though it was stifling at times – she loved him for it.

"Anna," he groaned, breaking her from her thoughts, "I think…"

"That's it, Kristoff." she encouraged him breathlessly as she slid the hand that caressed his face down to his right hip, coaxing him to penetrate her more deeply, "come for me. I want you to fill me."

His thrusts became a little deeper and faster – naturally as a result of his mental control – and it was as he began panting her name into her ear that her fingers worked with a greater fury against her nub, hastening her second mind-blowing orgasm. She knew from experience that it was gloriously intense if she came at the same time as he did.

"Anna…" he grunted, and she detected an edge of fear in his tone.

"Do it." she whispered.

"Anna…"

"Please…inside me…" she cried pleadingly as her fingers rapidly worked, feeling her explosion as it reached its peak.

" _Anna!"_  he roared. She felt him spill himself inside her eagerly waiting core, filling every space untouched by his length with its hot consistency, intensifying her own screaming climax and pushing her off the edge into another storm of white-hot pleasure. Grunts, cries, squeals and moans filled the concrete room with their sounds of delight as he continued to thrust inside her involuntarily clenching core, extending her climax for so long that she thought it would never end.

Eventually, as his grunts died down to pants of exertion, she felt him soften as he withdrew from her. Aftershocks coursed through her body to mingle with the still-present orgasm, further preventing her mind from coming down from the sky with such a mind-blowing, satisfying climax.

She felt the bed dip once more behind her, and with a satiated smile – and greater effort than ever before – she rolled onto her right side, hooked her left leg over him and rested her head upon his chest, gulping deep breaths as she lovingly – and more than a little lightheadedly – traced circles on his naked pectoral muscles.

Exhausted from a surprisingly intense session of lovemaking, she chose to wait so she could come down from her dizzying high before even  _thinking_  about attempting speech, and after at least ten minutes of silence punctuated only by gasps, pants and the occasional yelp as a sneaky aftershock burst through her body, she figured Kristoff was still in the land of blown minds – until he spoke.

"Anna?" he whispered. She craned her head to gaze curiously into his hazel orbs.

"Yeah?" she answered.

"I love you."

Her heart swelled with joy – it always felt like the first time he said it – and as she reached up to gently turn his face so she could see more of the beautiful features, amongst many other things, that she fell for, she grinned and spoke with all the honesty and genuine truth in their broken, war torn world.

"I love you too."

* * *

  _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _ **00:18:02:07:16**_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of amused that, for a non-smut chaptered fic, I've managed to fit in three different instances of it.
> 
> Speaking of smut: I recently discovered, after finding several adorable and very well done photo edits, that I am also a Jack x Anna shipper. I was then gripped by a dirty, gutter-minded muse which wouldn't leave me (and still hasn't) until I wrote some Janna smut.
> 
> Don't worry, I won't be uploading it for three reasons - one, it's borderline PWP (there is actually a sort of plot, believe it or not), two - I had quite a few negative reactions to the Jastrid chapters on FFN, and three (though I suppose you could combine it with "two"), I don't want to anger the Jelsa fans and the Kristanna fans.
> 
> So, assuming you're holding them, you can put away the torches and pitchforks. Jelsa and Kristanna are still my OTPs.


	23. Alone in a Crowded Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY SORRY SORRY FOR IT TAKING SO LONG! D:

_Location: New Arendelle, Upper Level, Snowfield House_   
_Date: November 21st, 2073_   
_Time: 14:45_

Being the commander of the Staging Ground, and holding the appropriate title of, oddly enough, Commander should be a prestigious position, with a certain level of power in accordance to it.

Only that was not the case for Hans.

While his twelve brothers were scattered throughout the military in various roles – Mikael, for example, was the commander of the  _10_ _th_ _Odin Tank Battalion_ , Arnulf headed the  _3_ _rd_ _, 4_ _th_ _and 5_ _th_ _Einherjar Fast Attack Wings,_ and Henrik as Supreme Commander wielded authority over the entire military, second only to the Unifier – Hans' position was less powerful and more…out of the way.

Infuriatingly enough, by his father's design.

The Staging Ground was little more than a military training base, housing several divisions of clone troops who underwent basic training for their roles as soldiers-slash-cannon-fodder, a few platoons of non-clone human troops for the more specialised roles of warfare like wet work missions, training to be Honour Guardsmen – the best of the best – and more than a few learner aircraft for those wishing to be pilots. Not to mention a state of the art tactical command training and examination facility.

Of course, one feather in Hans' cap was that the Staging Ground was the birthplace of the eminently successful Valkyries, but it was one feather in an otherwise bare cap.

Simply put – the prospects of ascending the ranks and earning favour in his family as a glorified military principal were poor, which meant that as he watched his elder brother Henrik slide several data tablets into a black duffel bag – his drafts for a crime fiction holo-novel, undoubtedly – while standing near the door into Henrik's study, he did so with a small prickle of envy. While his rather large family were off to Zone Fifty for a week, intent to be off the grid and unreachable so as to relax, he was left at home looking after the figurative children.

On the other hand, he always was the black sheep of the family, eschewing brawn and strength for cunning and tactics. So the absence of his family – specifically, his elder brother – was for the first time in years a fortuitous occurrence.

So, as he waited near the door of the rich wood study, where myriad glass rectangles stuck out like a sore thumb against older, pre-war books that adorned the entirety of the opposite wall, and sunlight streamed through an elegantly filigreed glass window behind his elder brother to bathe both him and the desk in natural light, he did so with a small amount of impatience.

"How many novels do you intend to edit, Henrik?" he asked, cocking a bemused eyebrow and half a smirk. Clad in a dark green cotton sweater and battleship grey pants held up by a black belt, the Supreme Commander looked far removed from the rank he held. Hans, however? Rarely out of his military uniform.

"Oh, you know me," Henrik chuckled as he slid the fifth tablet into the bag, "I like to have an abundance of choices as to what I write."

"Indeed I do, brother. I also know that the entire point of your vacation, as it is every year, is to get away from it all. One would assume that," he paused, gesturing casually to the half-full bag with one gloved hand, "taking technology  _with_ you defeats the purpose of relaxation."

"Ah," Henrik's immaculately bearded face hitched in a grin as he picked up a sixth tablet from the other end of the study desk, "but what if writing my holo-novels  _is_ relaxation?"

Hans rolled his eyes with a mirthless chuckle. "Please, brother. Your novels are predictable – the end result is always the Alliance spy that did it. I believe the last one was the butler?" he scoffed derisively.

Henrik froze with a hand still in the process of sliding the tablet into the bag, and slowly but surely straightened upright. A scowl of stung offense cut up his worn, aged features, and his hazel eyes darkened considerably. Hans swallowed a breath; had he gone too far? Sardonic jabs and teasing came with the territory of twelve brothers, but writing was Henrik's passion and his way of winding down after a tough day.

He stiffened as Henrik rounded the desk in a few short strides, hands balling into fists with his entire upper body puffed out in an aggressive show of superiority, and as the elder brother came to a stop about a foot away, his nostrils flaring as he breathed heavy, calming breaths, Hans felt his expression of mordant humour falter.

He prepared himself for another bout of sibling bullying – even though Henrik had never laid a hand upon him, he never put a stop to it, either – as the elder brother reached around to place a hand at the back of his head…and pulled it close so their foreheads touched.

"I'm going to miss you and your dry humour, little brother." Henrik murmured with his eyes closed.

"Come now, Henrik," Hans muttered dismissively, "you're only going to be away for two weeks."

"Yes, but that is two weeks off-the-grid. Technology-free…" Henrik continued, and then hastily amended, "…mostly. I won't be able to keep in contact with you."

"I…" Hans began, but felt the unfamiliar and decidedly unwelcome sensation of his words tumbling together in his throat, "I never knew you…I was always under the impression that you didn't care…"

Henrik pulled away and moved his hand to Hans' left shoulder, fixing him with a gaze that radiated regret. "But I do, and—and the fault is my own for engendering such a belief. I know that I was never there to stop Arnulf and Josef from locking you in the closet when you were a child-"

Hans suppressed a shiver at the memory. Ten years old, woken in the darkest hours of the night by the two middle children and shoved into a small and darkened space…it wasn't until morning broke that Henrik discovered him asleep against the wall.

"-and I did not protect you from Father's favouritism, nor our family's behaviour…but you will always be my little brother. I do care about you. I took control of the Valkyries knowing that if I did not, then Father would have appealed to the Unifier to transfer control anyway. I was trying to save you the humiliation."

Hans was struck with the complete inability to speak. Why now? Why say this  _now?_  Twenty sixyears he could have been the elder brother that all young boys look up to and are protected by, and he chose to open up  _now?_

"You were always my favourite brother, Hans. Intelligent, focused, ambitious – preferring to carve your own path through life. Content to use your brain rather than your fists…" he smiled proudly, and then chuckled "…unlike the gorillas masquerading as our siblings."

Hans' heart felt a twinge of regret amongst the shadow of brotherly love. He reached a gloved hand and rested it on the crook of Henrik's elbow, as though ensuring that his shoulder remained connected. "Thank you, big brother." he whispered.

"No gratitude necessary. I would rather have you at my side in battle against the Alliance and the abnormals, than any of the apes we share our name with."

Hans opened his mouth to reply with a rather sarcastic jab at Arnulf retaining the emotional depth of a teaspoon and Josef's intelligence approaching that of a Mark V drone when footsteps echoed through the upstairs hallway that connected Henrik's study with the rest of the house, mingling seamlessly with the heavy  _clunk-clunk-clunk_ of metal on the wooden floor as someone approached the study. Instantly, Henrik's hand fell from Hans' shoulder – undermining everything he said up until that moment – and his bearded head rose to gaze behind him.

Hans' heart went cold as soon as the greeting left his elder brother's lips. "Father."

The Third World War produced many veterans, one of whom became the patriarch of the family in which Hans felt he possessed the misfortune to be born into – Judas Larsen. He was a tall and muscular man, whose regime of exercise and healthy eating – in addition to more than a few secret visits to age-defying clinics, Hans suspected – offered him the good fortune to look like a man in his mid-fifties, despite being the age of seventy-three. A soldier in the U.S. Army during the war, he suffered quite a few injuries, including damage to the nerves in his right leg courtesy of a Russian bullet, which caused nigh constant pain and forced the use of a cane to walk. Henrik often questioned why he did not visit the cellular regrowth or cybernetic facilities offered regularly him by the Unifier as a sign of his prestige and status, and his reply was always the same.

_I wear my scars with pride. If I visit one of those facilities, it would be tantamount to rendering meaningless the sacrifices that my brothers-in-arms made, to pretending the past never happened. Each scar, every flash of pain honours them in ways that none of you will understand._

Of course, it was always on the tip of Hans' tongue to opine that as long as he remembered them in his mind and heart, then they would never be forgotten – but if he wanted to limp for the rest of his days like some sort of martyr? So be it.

Hans slowly turned to politely greet his father, something that was ignored as per usual. Stood by the door, dressed in an old green military sweater and khaki brown pants and sporting a buzz cut, Judas regarded his eldest son unwaveringly, and with impatience as he leaned heavily on the steel cane in his right hand.

"It is almost fifteen hundred, son. Are you nearly ready?" the patriarch asked with typical lack of emotion.

"Yes, Father." Henrik answered, nodding once. "I have a few more tablets to pack, and then I am ready."

"Good. I do not intend to wait any longer than is needed, so if you have finished wasting time chatting, I would suggest you complete your task." Judas replied tersely.

Henrik muttered an apology and quickly returned to the final three tablets on the desk, and for a time the three members of the Larsen family stood in an uncomfortable, tangible silence. Hans knew that there was no point opening his mouth for it only to be swiftly shut by his father, and he knew for a fact that Henrik was too cowardly to do the same. Judas ruled the family with an iron fist; he saw the sibling rivalry as a way to engender competition, and the bullying as a simple case of survival of the fittest. Intelligence was valued, but nowhere near as much as  _strength_  – and while Henrik possessed both in equal measure, his saving grace was that he was the eldest.

However, with greater intelligence than his brothers but physically weakest, Hans was the runt of the litter and therefore a prime target. He was the watchful one, the quiet one, the planner.

And his plans were on the eve of fruition, so he knew he had to act like everything was normal.

"Hans." his father broke the silence, jarring the youngest Larsen from his thoughts – as usual he addressed him by his name rather than  _"son"._

"Yes, Father?" he responded, meeting Judas' piercing grey gaze.

"You remember your role, do you not?" the patriarch asked pointedly.

"Yes, Father. I am to continue with my role as Commander of the Staging Ground, and should there occur anything of interest that warrants the Unifier's attention, I am to contact you immediately via drone messenger." He answered flatly, before muttering under his breath, "As it has been for the past several years…"

"What was that?" Judas growled, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing important, Father."

Judas lifted his chin whilst scrutinising his son closely, evidently debating on whether or not to press him to repeat himself. Hans met his father's gaze with as much of a blank expression as he could muster – all that mattered was to engender the minimum amount of fuss while his family prepared to leave. In truth, however, Hans enjoyed being able to effectively hide his emotions from his father. It came in useful in his youth, and it was serving its purpose admirably in that moment.

Everything hinged on nothing – specifically nothing out of the ordinary.

A rather pointed clearing of the throat broke the silence, and both men's heads turned to regard the eldest Larsen stood near the desk with the heavy bag over his shoulder, his hazel eyes dancing between them with an expression of wariness – though his face betrayed no such expression.

"I am ready, Father." Henrik announced softly.

"Good, then it's time to go." Judas replied curtly. Turning on his best foot, his cane led the way as he exited the room. Hans shot a glance to Henrik, who offered nothing but a light sympathetic shrug before following suit.

Hans' eyes remained upon the doorway for a few seconds while he came to terms with everything that happened over the course of the past half hour. So his brother still cared for him? That was news. It was an unfortunately timed revelation; had Henrik openly talked about how he really felt before that moment, everything that was to occur in the future may not have needed to happen.

But the board was set, the pieces were moving – and what was to come could not be stopped, even if he  _wanted_ to.

He inhaled deeply through his nose and gave the study one last glance-over, almost as though to say goodbye while pulling on the hem of his gloves to ensure their comfort. "Too little, too late, brother." He murmured to himself.

"Too little, too late."

* * *

Hans quickly but efficiently caught up with his father and elder brother just as they began to descend the long, red-carpeted spiral staircase surrounding a glass chandelier, and slowed his pace to match theirs while he folded his arms behind his back.

It was then that Judas let slip something which took him a little off guard – an almost forlorn sigh.

"Father?" Henrik inquired curiously.

Hans watched as the back of Judas' head turned to glance fleetingly in Henrik's direction, before returning his attention to slowly descending the stairs. "I was just thinking of the Snowfields."

Henrik grunted derisively, but Hans was curious. "What of them?"

"On vacations such as these, I would often send invitations to Agdar and Idun for them to join us. Naturally they refused every time, deeming their work on the serum to be too vital, but still. It pains my heart to know that they were taken so…violently, even three years later. I enjoyed my weekly games of chess with Agdar, along with the depth of the discussions we would take part in."

Henrik was unable to hide a scoff, and it instantly captured the attention of both Hans and his father. "You have something to say?" the patriarch challenged him.

"The Snowfields were thorns in our sides from the moment the Unifier decided that our credits would be better spent researching abnormalities and Bloom Events rather than increasing our military might. He always did favour Agdar and his family more than us, so I say good riddance. With them out of the way, we-"

There was the sound of metal impacting material as Judas' cane whipped up to hit Henrik rather roughly in the chest, and even though Hans was standing behind his father, he could  _feel_ the intensity of the glare being sent Henrik's way.

"I am going to stop you right there,  _boy._ Agdar and Idun were good people. They devoted their lives to the betterment of Unity through science, and though we were rivals, Agdar was a good friend. What happened to them was tragic, Henrik, even if it did elevate our status. I'll not stand to hear any more comments like that, and I'll thank you to remember that as a result of the assassination, there is a young lady that feels the pain of losing her entire family in one night. Miss Elsa Snowfield has my utmost sympathy and respect, and she should have yours too. Can you  _imagine_  what she is going through, to be the  _last_ of her family?"

From his vantage point behind his father, slightly elevated and to the left of Henrik, it was easy for Hans to see how his elder brother's face had instantly blanched at being so swiftly and brutally shut down. For a moment, he felt a faint sense of pity – but the schadenfreude-like pleasure was too strong.

"No, Father." Henrik mumbled, thoroughly scolded.

"I'm glad we understand each other – and if I hear any more remarks like that, you'll have my boot so far up your ass that you'll taste leather, am I clear?" Judas snarled, his prior eloquence disappearing under thinly veiled anger.

"Crystal, Father. I was just…" Henrik answered. Hans winced – was he  _trying_ to earn his father's wrath?

"Just  _what,_ boy?"

"With the economy now firmly entrenched in military advancement, is it not time that we elevate Hans' position?" Henrik asked, evidently intending to appear as meek as possible.

Hans frowned – this he did  _not_ expect. Henrik rarely questioned his father's wishes, to the point that Hans often wondered if his elder sibling's role as Supreme Commander was simply a  _yes man_. Yet there he was, openly suggesting something that would directly benefit him.

He watched as Judas studied the eldest son for some time. "No." he answered gruffly, returning the cane to the floor and resuming the journey. "I think the current arrangements suffice, don't you?"

Hans predicted the answer that would come out of his elder brother's mouth, and was not disappointed. "Yes, Father."

The rest of the descent went in silence, with Henrik blushing like a scolded child, Judas breathing heavily through his nose – whether out of infuriation or simple pain, no-one knew – and Hans simply waiting. Truth be told – he didn't really care; it was all inconsequential in the face of what was to come.

As they reached the last step, the family butler appeared from the entrance that led to their cavernous living room and stood at the end of the banister, his white-gloved hands to his sides and his face ever expressionless as he stared at a fixed point on the crimson wallpaper opposite him.

"Mr Larsen, Masters Henrik and Hans, your cars are ready." He announced.

"Thank you, Kai, but Hans will not be joining us this year." Judas brusquely replied, and Kai bowed slowly.

"Of course, sir. My apologies."

Hans rolled his eyes and suppressed a sigh of boredom – had he felt disappointment at any point during the day, his father's comment would have felt like a slap in the face. Yet, all he felt was a strong sense of impatience in his chest.

The four men pressed on towards the door, where Hans remained with Kai just at the threshold while Judas and Henrik continued on to the first of six black hover-cars waiting patiently in a line on the gravelled driveway that encircled an immaculately cut grass lawn with a huge, three-tiered fountain in the centre. Casting his eyes to the sky, Hans noted the presence of impenetrably black clouds advancing from the west, and considered it an omen of things to come.

"Mikael! Erik!" his father irritably called out. "I don't like to be kept waiting!"

Hans tensed his right arm just as a pair of heavy footsteps echoed through the house behind him, which was fortuitously timed as his shoulder was roughly – and predictably – bumped by two of his other siblings. He rolled his eyes with a deep sense of cynicism – the twins Mikael and Erik had pretended that he was invisible all through his formative years up until and including that moment, so why should that change now?

Rolling his shoulder back, he called out to his eldest brother who was in the process of stuffing his bag into the trunk of the first car. Henrik's head snapped up with his eyebrows high, patiently waiting for him to continue.

"Have a pleasant vacation, brother." Hans called loudly. Henrik smiled and offered a wave of gratitude, before circling the car, opening the rear left passenger door and sliding inside. His impatience abating with each passing second, Hans watched with the best of poker faces as the family Larsen all took their places in their respective cars, and breathed a sigh of relief as, led by Judas, Henrik and his mother Ingrid, the Larsen convoy slowly traversed the gravel driveway and embarked upon their journey.

"When the cat's away," Hans muttered to himself as his blank face fell to the small curl of a knowing smile, "the mice will play."

"I'm sorry, Master Hans?"

Hans stiffened – with the impatience growing to a tangible level prior to the convoy's departure, along with the rather physical jarring courtesy of Mikael and Erik, he had completely forgotten about Kai. Noticing the irony, he chuckled emotionlessly.

"Nothing, Kai," he answered calmly, "just an old phrase."

"Yes, Master." The family's butler calmly said. Hans uttered a single  _hm_  as he watched the final car disappear through the wide, wrought steel gates and once they were out of sight, he swiftly turned on a dime and entered the foyer of the house.

"Dinner will be at what time, Kai?" he asked, focusing his emerald pools on pulling off his gloves finger by finger.

"Six o'-" Kai began, but checked himself when Hans shot him a look, "eighteen hundred, Master Hans. In addition, you have a call waiting in the living room."

He froze in the middle of pulling the glove from the middle finger of his left hand, and cast the butler a questioning frown. "A call from whom?"

"Captain Bludvist." Kai answered simply, stiff as a board and his eyes blankly focused upon the youngest Larsen.

"What did he want?" Hans asked quietly – and hoped to the stars that Drago's intelligence was at least equal to the length of his dreadlocks, and hadn't given anything away.

"Er, to discuss the next batch of  _Einherjar_ pilots, Master Hans. If I may be so bold, apparently some of them do not meet his…expectations." Kai explained, though not without a small amount of snark. Hans masked his sigh of relief behind an amused chuckle, and returned to the task of de-gloving his left hand.

"Captain Bludvist does possess obscenely high standards. Very well, I'll take it—privately—in the living room."

"Very good, Master Hans." Kai drawled, and turned on his heels towards the staff kitchen at the opposite end of the richly decorated house. Hans watched him carefully out of the corner of his eye, listening to the receding  _click-clack_ of the butler's shoes as he disappeared through a pair of huge white double doors under the upstairs hallway.

Satisfied that he was out of ear shot, and the call could be taken in secrecy, Hans swiftly turned and strode purposefully through the white double doors into the nearby living room, taking care to close and lock them behind him. Crossing the crimson carpet in several long strides to the Uni-Com situated at the opposite corner of the room whilst nimbly dodging the expensive couches between him and his goal, he cast one quick glance over his shoulder to check that Kai had not sneakily opened the doors without him knowing.

He waited for a few seconds while he eyed the door handles with suspicion – Kai may have been Henrik's butler and thus was under his temporary control while his master was elsewhere, but he didn't trust the portly man as far as he could throw him. Not to mention the fact that, prior to his acquisition by the eldest Larsen, Kai used to be the Snowfield family butler.

Put simply – the less Kai knew the better.

Content that he would not be disturbed by the tell-tale click of someone unlocking the doors, Hans returned his attention to the Uni-Com before him, with its ever-present shimmering blue-infused screen patiently awaiting his first command.

"Uni-Com, establish pending call with Captain Bludvist." he ordered, eyeing the thin speech line as he tossed his gloves onto the device's desk.

" _Yes, Mr Larsen."_ the A.I. responded politely.

Within seconds, the speech line shot away to be replaced by the hard, stern and borderline caveman-like face unfortunately belonging to Drago, whose eyes shone with the glimmer of promise and dark excitement, and whose thin lips curled up one side into a half-smirk.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your call, Captain Bludvist?" he asked, but was unable to hide the irritated sarcasm when he added "I hope it's important. I have a house to sit."

Drago's head lifted in a single, amused grunt.  _"How about this – she's ready."_

Hans' mouth parted in surprise, an emotion reflected in the minor widening of his eyes. "What?"

" _She's ready. I got word from the engineers a few hours ago – her power generation and distribution systems are running smoothly, the internal software isn't glitch-infested any longer, and the anti-Dead Zone tech has been integrated into the scanners. I've been assured that she's ready for her shakedown cruise."_ Drago explained in his customary rockslide-like voice, each word heavy with nothing short of pride.

Hans' previous state of surprise fell into a frown of curiosity; Drago had omitted something, and its absence ironically stuck out like a burning abnormal. "You didn't mention her weaponry." he prompted.

" _That's 'cause her medium and heavy pulse cannons are still having problems with the energy coils. Hofferson tech is a pain in the ass."_ Drago answered impatiently. Hans' jaw quirked to the left as he assimilated the news and considered his options.

"But her primary function is unimpeded?"

" _Yeah. She'll fly true, and with what she's going to carry, I'm pretty sure that's all you need."_ Drago said, dipping his head as he smiled malevolently.

"Excellent. Begin preparations immediately; you will have my written authorisation before the end of today to allocate any remaining drop ship, drone and troop resources to the  _Hammer_  as soon as humanly possible—and Drago?"

" _Yeah?"_ the captain answered gruffly.

"Be discrete about it." he warned. Drago's dreadlocks dipped as he nodded once, and waved his hand across the screen to end the call without further discussion.

Hans took a moment to revel – so far, everything was going to plan. Henrik and the rest of the Larsen family would be in zone fifty by the time the  _Hammer_ began her shakedown cruise, and even  _if_ they got wind of her flight, they were too far to do anything about it. He just hoped that underneath the sheer bulk and physical fury, Drago was cunning enough to essentially amass an army under everyone's noses. It was a risk, naturally, but Judas Larsen had a saying that even  _he_ had to admit was apt –  _'fortune favours the bold'…_

…and his plan was very, very bold.

"Uni-Com," he addressed the patiently waiting speech line that occupied the centre of the screen as soon as Drago ended the call, "please establish a connection with Elsa Snowfield."

" _Working…"_ the A.I. responded, throwing up her military identification photograph. He paced back and forth as  _DIALLING…_  slowly flashed in and out of existence, wondering why it seemed to be taking her so long to answer.

" _Commander?"_

Hans whirled around the instant he heard her voice, and regarded the blue-hued representation of Elsa staring back at him with eyes of inquisitiveness, framed by a face that seemed to radiate lack of sleep in addition to a few flyaway hairs on her forehead.

"Ah, Elsa. Good to see you again. I trust you are well?" he smiled. Elsa blinked as though she was having difficulty registering his question.

" _As well as can be expected, sir."_ she answered politely.

"Are you sure? You look a little run down…" he frowned.

Elsa's image sighed and scratched her temple before explaining with no small amount of frustration.  _"Truth be told, sir…I've been having trouble sleeping at night, in addition to going a little stir crazy. I'm anxious to be back on duty, sir."_

Hans smiled wryly as he rolled his shoulders back, and proudly lifted his chin. "Well," he said in a tone full of promise, "you may yet get your wish."

Elsa frowned.  _"Sir?"_

Hans stiffened slightly, letting his prior wryness fall away to military order and volume. "As of this moment, Valkyrie Leader Elsa Snowfield, your leave is hereby suspended – written confirmation will be sent to you shortly. You are to gather your team and report to the Staging Ground to assemble your gear before nineteen-hundred, after which you will travel to the co-ordinates which will be programmed into the  _Valhalla's_ navigational software."

Elsa stiffened bolt upright as her eyes widened immeasurably.  _"Does this mean...?"_

"Do I need to repeat myself, soldier?" Hans barked. "I am mobilising the Valkyries for battle."

" _Sir, no sir!"_ Elsa replied quickly.  _"I'll contact Valkyries Hofferson, DunBroch and Corona immediately, sir."_

"Excellent. I must impress upon you to be discrete, soldier. That's an order."

" _Yes, sir."_  Elsa replied simply.

"Good. I will see you in the Project grounds tomorrow. Unity in thought, Valkyrie Leader." Hans smiled.

" _Unity in deed, sir."_ Elsa nodded. She saluted him quickly and respectfully, and once he returned her gesture he waved across the screen and ended the call.

Taking a moment to bask in the excited anticipation brimming within his heart, he cast his mind back to the game of chess he played with his brother, and remarked upon the similarities between his victory then, and the events unfolding before his eyes according to his plan.

"Checkmate." he murmured softly, gazing at the discarded pair of white gloves sat upon the Uni-Com's desk.

* * *

_Location: Hangar Bay, Guardian Star  
Time: 17:40_

"Pull."

With a loud hiss, the beach ball sized snowball obediently zipped past Jack, through the open hangar bay door and out into the evening sky. With his extended staff tucked under his right shoulder, he followed the white sphere with it as it shrank into the distance – and fired.

A bolt of icy blue cascaded from the staff's tip in a lightning-like zig-zag, ripping through the air as it sought its target, resulting in an explosion of billowing powder as "lightning" met snow. Jack smirked as he lowered his staff, noting his nineteenth successful attempt at honing his skills.

"You know," Hiccup groaned loudly from the booth near the hangar bay elevator, "these magnetic catapults were designed for more than just clay pigeon shooting."

Jack chuckled as he casually rested the staff upon his shoulders and hooked his arms around it. "You mean  _'snow pigeon shooting'_." he wryly corrected as he swaggered towards the booth.

He knew Hiccup was right, much as a downer to his sense of fun as it was. The day after the wedding, Hiccup had come to the Ghosts and Neve with plans of a makeshift miniaturised catapult based on the long-defunct steam catapult on the flight deck. Utilising several large canisters of air per contraption, the idea was that a dropship would be magnetically stuck to a platform ready for someone in the booth to hit an ironically designed red button. Instantly, the compressed air would force the platform at breakneck speed to the open hangar doors – and as soon as it reached the threshold, the magnetic attraction would cut out thereby enabling the drop ship to escape using the momentum and its own ionic thrust engines.

Jack wittily coined it the  _"Get the fuck outta Dodge"_ system, and as such, had spent a few evenings 'testing' it by conjuring a snowball at the rear of the platform where it slightly inclined, and persuading Hiccup to hit the button while he practised his accuracy.

"Clay, snow, whatever. You keep misusing it like this then we'll have no gas in the canisters if Kristoff does initiate Code Exodus." Hiccup reprimanded him as he exited the booth and strode past him towards the catapult, but not before turning briefly as he walked to waggle a chastising spanner. "I built them to save lives, you know."

Jack sighed irritably, dropping his head. "Great, now I'm getting shit from you too. Can't do anything right these days, it seems." he grumbled, kicking something on the asphalt ground only he could see like a scolded child.

Hiccup didn't look away from his task of tightening the pipe connecting one of the four canisters to the platform's rail, grunting slightly with each millimetre turn of the spanner. "What do you mean by that?"

Jack exhaled through his nose, and cursed his big mouth. "It's nothing, Hiccup." he answered curtly. Walking over to the open bay door, he retracted his staff and slotted it back into his bracer so he could fold his arms and gaze out into the horizon.

"Oh no, don't give me that." Hiccup said as he rose to his knees and gestured threateningly with the spanner, "You don't get to come out with that and expect me to ignore it. I'm your friend, you know, not just your team mate, prank victim and occasional get-out-of-jail-free card."

"I don't know, Hic. It's just…stuff, I guess." Jack muttered.

A guttural grumble reached his ears from the patch of inky black laid upon the second platform deeper into the bay – evidently Toothless shared his master's exasperation judging by the rolling of his viridian cat-like eyes. Jack shook his head and dismissively-lamely waved him off, receiving nothing but a grumpy snort and the sound of shuffling as the winged creature adjusted his position so he was facing neither master nor friend.

"Ignore him, he's just sulky." Hiccup sighed, before calling out to his buddy, "Isn't that right, Sulky McBooBoo?"

Toothless let out a series of growls as he thrashed his tail in a threatening manner –  _not talking to you, human._ Chuckling, Hiccup tossed the spanner aside and walked over to stand near the pensive Ghost, folding his arms as he too regarded the moody dragon.

"I'm guessing he's still salty that he's here and not in Greenland?" Jack asked, watching as a smoke ring appeared from the other side of the curled black mass and floated forlornly toward the ceiling.

"Ayup. He misses all that wide open space to frolic and roll in, plus all the kids to play with. " Hiccup said softly and with no small amount of sympathy in his voice. "Part of me wishes we could have stayed but, you know, responsibilities."

Jack repeated the last word under his breath as he stared out into the evening sky, the sun having been consumed by the horizon fifteen minutes previously, leaving a mass of violets and blues as a sign it was ever there.

"It also means," Hiccup added, "that you don't get out of telling me what's up. I've already got one moody friend on my plate so come on—spill."

Jack exhaled deeply through his nose, feeling a ball of dampened spirits settle firmly in his chest and spread throughout his body with every beat of his heart. "I don't know, Hic, it's like…everything feels weird. Do you know what I mean?"

Hiccup shrugged. "Not really. I've either been out on fishing runs, or down here screwing around with the catapults – which  _you_ keep using as snowball launchers – so I'm a little out of the loop. You're going to have to be a bit more specific, bud."

"It's just…it feels like everything's changed, you know? Like I woke up and everything's different. Anna and I haven't really talked much over the past couple of weeks…"

"Well, she is enjoying married life, don't forget. Not only that, but she's training the three hundred volunteers in using the stun rifles, so her plate is a little full. So's yours, actually, with your powers training."

"Yeah I know, I only taught them to harness and control their powers before, not to offensively use them. I suppose it makes sense; when one of us is busy, the other is free." Jack lamented as he bent his neck to scratch his temple, before adding, "Oh, did you know that Neve signed up for Anna's training?"

"I always knew that she was a crouching lady, hidden badass." Hiccup joked, smirking.

"Same… but it's the thought of her picking up a pistol that makes me uneasy. She was always so…"

"Calm? Peaceful? Motherly?" Hiccup offered.

"All of the above, I guess."

Hiccup nodded sympathetically. "Totally get you. It's like Ariel walking around with a stun rifle – she's the sweetest, gentlest, most selfless woman I know and she also signed up."

"Yep. Feels like everything is changing right in front of my eyes and I can't keep up." Jack sighed. He scratched his temple, hoping to at least  _distract_ himself from the feeling of…

"You're feeling lonely, aren't you?" Hiccup asked observantly.

Jack said nothing –  _couldn't say anything –_ for the simple facts that for one, Hiccup was totally right. He was fairly used to isolation in one way or another, having been ostracised and ignored by inhabitants of the settlements he wandered through post-bloom, in a complete daze and wondering why the hell – no matter how many times he pleaded, screamed, begged – no-one would help him.

For another, he didn't want to believe it. Self-delusion is often ridiculed by one's peers, but it does have its perks of allowing someone to function when things look grim.

"Talked to Koz recently?" Hiccup asked, and even with his eyes immovably off to the left to stare fiercely into the rippling waters, Jack could still feel the brown-eyed gaze of his friend burning into the side of his head.

"No. Ever since I came back, he's been avoiding me. I tried talking to him every day, but he just shuts me down. Won't even be in the same room as me, let alone give me the time of day. I'm guessing someone told him about the Valkyrie thing." Jack muttered.

"Well, you know how he is. He sees them as the enemy, and thinks you've somehow betrayed the cause by sleeping with her." Hiccup shrugged.

"Thank you for summing that up." Jack groaned with dripping sarcasm.

"Hey, that's my line." Hiccup gasped in mock-offense.

"Mine now." Jack chuckled sadly. Unfolding his left arm, he held his hand open and waited while a snowflake materialised above his palm. Revolving slowly, it was small and dull; identical yet not to the physical expression of his powers in the safe house with Eugene months ago. What  _was_ similar was the feeling of helplessness and isolation, but for different reasons. Back then he could partly, but not fully, relate to the pain and anguish in Eugene's heart and so anything he could have said would be akin to putting out a forest fire with a thimble of water – pointless.

Now, his loneliness was attributed to a single question that had been raging around his mind like a particularly unruly and stubborn squatter – just why was he having so much difficulty dealing with change? Anna was  _bound_ to get married someday, and returning to their previous position in the middle of the Atlantic was exactly what he wanted.

So why did it feel like he was being left behind?

Hiccup opened his mouth to offer words of consolation and support. "Look, just give Koz time to-"

"With all due respect, Hiccup," Jack cut him off bitterly, "Koz can hold a grudge until the end of time – and it hurts because we've been through so much together, we've fought together…fuck, we even made a pact that if things looked like we were going to die, we'd die together, and now it's like none of that even matters to him."

His throat felt a familiar tightness develop in the rough area of his Adam's apple, and a burning sensation prick at his eyes. He refused to let it show – he had to conceal it. He shed tears in front of  _no-one._ Not Anna, not Hiccup, and sure as hell not Kozmotis. Ghosts are tough, hardy.

"I know what's really bugging you."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm breathless with suspense."

"You're missing the kids." Hiccup said - and his words felt like a red bolt to the chest. Annoyingly –  _infuriatingly –_ he was right, and it was another thing that Jack was desperately trying not to think about. Trying to avoid the knowledge like it was an aching plague designed to depress and sadden everything it touched.

The ship felt  _empty._  Even with three hundred volunteers, five Ghosts, one scout and one leader, there was a ghostly vacancy to it that could only be filled with childish squeals and laughter and the sound of rapid footsteps echoing through the corridors as boys chased girls – or in the case of the fiery Samantha…chasing  _boys –_ so to walk through the bowels of the  _Star_ and hear essentially  _nothing…_ he felt void of purpose. No kindergarten, no kids to play with, no snowball fights.

Anna had her husband. Kozmotis had his books, and his rage. Hiccup had Toothless, and his inventive gadgetry. Kristoff had his wife. Eugene, oddly enough, had Agatha and a newfound calling as the master of the  _Star's_ galley.

Jack, whether the notion was false or misplaced, felt like he had nothing.

Then again, it had only been a couple of weeks so he was probably making a mountain out of a molehill – but for such a social creature it felt like an empty ache in his heart, which was probably why he had decided to drop by the hangar bay an hour ago to annoy Hiccup. After all, annoying people was what he did best.

Unfortunately even  _that_ lost its appeal as the air around them became unwelcomingly close, despite the wide open world in front of him and the vast hangar bay behind him, and with his newfound urge to conceal his problems from the ever observant rider, he felt a distinct urge to get away and dwell in the irony of, in that moment, actively wanting to be alone.

"Look, dude, what about-" Hiccup began, but stopped when Jack unclipped his collapsed staff from his bracer and extended it with a rather emphatic and silencing  _shink._

"Thanks for the talk, Hic." he said brusquely, before walking out onto the lowered exterior elevator in preparation to fly…yet there was something that grounded him, at least for a moment. A question already answered by Kozmotis in his own way.

"Hey Hic," he called over his shoulder, hoping that he was heard over the disquieted waves crashing against the  _Star's_ body so he wouldn't have to repeat himself, "do you think I did the right thing? Sleeping with that Valkyrie, and shooting that shopkeeper?"

"I already told you when you came back what I thought of the mercy killing – he was getting torn apart by Reapers, so you did him a favour. As for the Valkyrie thing…" Hiccup paused, "it doesn't matter what  _I_ or what  _anyone_ thinks. Only what  _you_ think. But for the record, I'm not holding it against you. Without it, we wouldn't have known that we could get a couple of raids done while the Valkyries' panties are down."

Mentally shaking off the recollection that seeing a Valkyrie with her panties  _off_ wasn't exactly a bad thing, Jack dipped his head in both in gratitude and respect, and the brisk squall that wrapped him in its invisible embrace to roughly carry him up to the flight deck was a reminder of how his powers reflected his state of being – conflicted, and self-reproachful.

* * *

_Time: 19:40_

The high-speed snowball hit him squarely in the face with a muffled thud, knocking him off his feet and onto the snow-covered asphalt deck with a pained howl punctuated by the soft clatter of his staff as it fled from his fingertips – he was sloppy, and he knew it.

Part of Jack's practise repertoire involved the flight deck, where he would summon a localised wind which would rush around him like a weak mini-tornado roughly twenty feet in diameter. Inside the funnel of wind would be a dozen or so snowballs, which would zoom in a moderately fast circle until such a time that the wind deemed it right to peel them off and fling them directly at the Ghost. Sometimes it would be one snowball, other times it would be three.

The idea was that it would hone his agility, his skills in acrobatic movement, his reflexes, reaction time and accuracy – he would dodge the white projectiles until he had enough of an opening to blast them apart with his staff, and in every instance of that particular type of practise his performance was usually flawless. Even Anna enjoyed shooting a few flying snowballs with jets of fire every now and then.

But, shortly after his conversation with Hiccup, that particular practise session was abysmally sloppy…as well as the three other sessions before it. He had missed quite a few easy shots, while the spheres of ice were highly accurate as usual – and thrown fast enough, even a snowball can knock you on your ass.

Which it did.

Several times.

"Fuck's sake…" Jack hissed angrily at himself, commencing the umpteenth task of wiping the aftereffects of a hit from his face. It was a schoolboy error – two snowballs had been flung at him from opposite sides, so all he would have needed to do would be to lean backwards or duck and let them crash into each other. But his brain picked such a time for it to reboot itself, so rather than dodge them he thought it would be more efficient to blast them out of the air with a staff shot. It worked for the left one, but unfortunately as soon as it exploded into twinkling white powder, he turned to do the same to the right only to eat a faceful of snow, watch his world abruptly shift ninety degrees and feel the impact of asphalt on his back.

He knew  _why_ his previous attempts had been so shoddy – his emotional state. How was he supposed to practise if he wasn't calm and focused?

It was then, as he stared up at the night sky unbroken by neither cloud nor manmade structure, where the inky canvas of black mocked him with teeth of glittering stars that he decided enough was enough. Maybe he was being overly whiny with Hiccup an hour and a half beforehand, or maybe his lamentations were justified and understandable.

Either way, it was negatively impacting his ability to function as a Ghost – and it had to  _stop._

As he rolled onto his side, he reminded himself that the  _Star_ was no longer populated by fifteen hundred abnormals but three hundred – a skeleton crew, which meant that everyone's plates were a lot more full – borderline overflowing – than they anticipated. Hell, it was a minor miracle Hiccup was even in the hangar bay, given that he only had half of his engineering team. Anna was having to teach that skeleton crew how to shoot and supervise them as they practised, in between snatching as much time as she could with her husband who was assisting Neve with organisational and leadership duties. Kozmotis' history classes became basic hand-to-hand combat classes, so he was in the same boat as Anna both literally and figuratively speaking…and if he had a problem with Jack's one night stand?  _He can either deal with it, or say something to my face,_ Jack thought with bitter resolve.

As he pushed himself to his knees, wincing as he awkwardly rolled his shoulders back, he remembered how Eugene seemed  _happy._ His new role as the ship's cook – with a few assistants – meant that he had something to occupy his attention  _and_ honour Sneak in his own way.  _Who am I to complain about that?_ Jack thought.

When he reached over and laced his fingers around his nearby staff, his mind was ablaze with reprimanding, scolding words –  _Yeah, the kids aren't here. But that's good. Know why? They're_ safe  _in Sanctuary. Safer there than an ancient aircraft carrier, that's for sure. Better facilities, better food, just all-around better. Don't be so freaking selfish – this is the way it should be._

_You always made it clear you'd do anything to keep the children safe. What do you think you're doing right now, frostbrain? You know I'm right…which means you're right…I mean…you mean…oh whatever._

He chuckled in embarrassment when he realised that the voice in his head that was chastising him belonged to his old mentor Mulan. She always did help him to cut through the crap and see the bigger picture.

_So here's the deal. Get up. Do it again, and_ focus  _this time._

"Yes ma'am." he said.

Smiling with newfound resolve and the old familiarity of being chewed out by his late mentor, he jabbed the staff into the snow-swept deck and with the added help of a hand against his knee, pulled himself to his feet. This practise session, he decided, would be the last one – so he knew he had to make it goddamn flawless – therefore he decided to add an extra incentive. Bending down to place the staff on his right foot, he grasped the hem of his black tank top and pulled it up and over his head, making his untameable hair even messier. Feeling the cold bite of the November sea air attacking his skin, his abdominal and back muscles went taut with the knowledge that if he was sluggish from that point on, any successful hits were going to  _freaking hurt._

So, all the more reason to not be hit.

With a cocky smirk, he kicked his staff up into the air and quickly caught it with his right hand – with the conduit for his abilities securely in his grip, he walked in a moderately wide circle and dragged his staff across the snow, encouraging some of the white powdery splendour to coalesce into palm-sized snowballs as though bowing to his will.

Satisfied that the fifteen or so spheres of potential pain were ready, he closed his eyes, assumed his usual relaxed standing position and felt the pleasantly familiar sensation of his gift humming in his chest as he willed the wind into action. His hair whipped in every direction as the circle of gusts began gently at first, concentrated around his body, and as the seconds went by it grew and grew until it was twenty feet wide, and had sucked up all of the snowballs to create a swirling vortex of pain. Of course, it had picked up the unused snow too, but that always added a dimension of difficulty and excitement; harder to see spheres of white against a billowing backdrop of white.

Then, without preamble, the first one was sent hurtling toward his face. Jack ducked and fluidly revolved on his feet, quickly raised his staff and consigned the ball to oblivion with a well-aimed icy bolt. Almost instantly, he felt the second one as it careered towards his back – he always found it odd how he could faintly  _feel_ each snowball, but then again he was technically a walking freak of nature, so snowball-sensing wasn't too far out of left field – and with a wide arced swing he turned and smashed his staff into it with  _great_ satisfaction.

But if the wind was a sentient being, it decided it wasn't playing nice any more, and upped the stakes by sending snowball after snowball at him from every angle – and the dance began.

With little time to pause or attack, Jack devoted his energy to evading the projectiles with a dazzling series of weaves, ducks, leans and the occasional exhibitionist butterfly kick – some went wide of the mark before re-joining the weak vortex, others narrowly missed his face. His movements were fluid, acrobatic and graceful like a dancer at war with the air around them. Halfway through a butterfly kick, one snowball had passed through his legs while the other narrowly missed his head, but like the ones before it there was no contact.

Then came his counterattacks weaved into his evasive movements – snowballs were reduced to a puff of white either hurtling to or away from him with instantaneous bolts of ice, or hard swings of his staff. Two had come hurtling one after the other, the first of which he summarily destroyed by horizontally arcing his staff in front of him like a bat, letting the momentum push him into a spin as he swung the staff onto his shoulders and let loose another bolt to obliterate the second.

Fifteen became thirteen, thirteen became ten, ten became five, and eventually only two snowballs remained inside the swirling vortex. With his staff held aggressively in front of him, his eyes darted between them as they flew right to left across his vision, waiting for them to strike.

"I know what you're doing." he murmured challengingly to the wind, which howled petulantly in response.  _But it was so fun hitting you and knocking you on your ass, and now you're all dancey-dodge monkey! It's not fun anymore!_

"Come on…" he coaxed it breathlessly, impatiently willing it to let fly with the last two. His limbs ached with overuse, particularly his thighs and calves as a result of non-stop ducking, rolling, weaving and heavy use of butterfly kicks and jumps, his skin sang of previous impacts and chilly air, and to be quite honest he just wanted to go to bed. "You know you want to…" he continued, as if the wind could respond.

Which, it sort of did.

The final two snowballs were hurled at great velocity from either side of him, both destined to impact his head and hopefully knock him on his ass. He  _could_ swing his staff onto his shoulders and let fly a bolt of frost from both ends…but with a knowing smirk he elected for something simple, and dropped to a crouch.

He heard a soft  _buff_ as the two projectiles met in a violent impact and disintegrated each other, and felt the softest kiss of dusty snow as it floated down and caressed his back, the gentleness a direct contrast to the swirling vortex around him as, defeated, the wind slowly died down from an exceptionally weak tornado to a gentle breeze.

"Still got it, Mulan." he gasped, sucking in deep, ragged, exhausted breaths.

_As if you ever lost it,_ the voice in his head retorted.  _Good work…punk._

He slowly rose to his feet and turned in a circle to survey the scene; the wind had carved a misshapen yet strangely striking circular swirl in the snow around him, creating a wintry pinwheel-esque shape, and felt the unquestionable rush of victory and euphoria throughout his body meld with the child-like awe at the sight that, for all intents and purposes, he had turned the entire bow of the flight deck into a snow-covered winter wonderland.

Of course, a characteristic flaw of Jack's is to get too swept up in the moment. Basking in his adrenaline-heightened, post-success euphoria, he was ignorant to the inimitable sound of applause echoing through the newly-still air of the Atlantic until the person clapping was six feet away.

Whirling around, his eyes widened in surprise as they rested upon the freckled cheeks, sapphire eyes, impressed smirk and twin strawberry blonde braids only associated with one person. "Anna?" he gaped.

"Surprise!" she sang. Dressed in her customary black tank top and combat pants, her eyes drifted across the carpet of glittering white powder around them, curling her lips into an impressed smile.

"Sorry, I just—wait, let me get my shirt back on!" he blurted in embarrassment, and immediately whisked his head every which way in search of his tank top.

"Meh," she scoffed with a dismissive wave, "it's not like I've not seen it before."

"Right…" Jack narrowed one eye, and made a mental note to search for his top regardless, "what's up? I thought you'd be with Kristoff or something."

She shrugged awkwardly as she languidly walked up to him, the way one does when they've got a proposition up their sleeve, and explained. "Well, Hiccup caught me on the radio and told me you weren't feeling too great, something about feeling a little lonely? And it got me thinking – with everything that's going on lately, we haven't spent time together. Which sucks—a lot—and I miss it. So, when Hiro told me he registered an increase in wind speed outside, I kinda figured where you'd be, so I thought I'd come say hi."

Jack smiled gratefully, and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Thanks, it means a lot." he murmured, feeling her hands as they rubbed affectionately into his back.

"No problemo, amigo," she chuckled as she pulled away, and then punched him lightly in the shoulder as she continued, "So, do you want to hang out with your best friend for a few hours?"

"Hell yeah, Anna – just gimme a second to clean up all this mess and I'll be right with you." he said, holding up a hand while he turned around as a silent request to wait, as though she was a figment of his imagination and was due to disappear, and prepared to dissolve the carpet of snow into the air.

"Actually…"

"What?" he asked frowning as he turned his head.

"I was just thinking it'd be a shame to waste all this pretty snow, so…"

Smiling shyly, she reached her hands into the thigh pockets of her pants to produce three carrots from her left, and a handful of small stones from her right.

"…do you wanna build a snowman?"

* * *

_COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ **00:03:01:50:16**

* * *

 


	24. The Purge: Zero Hour

" **The Purge: Zero Hour"**

* * *

_Rapunzel "Goldilocks" Corona_

* * *

 

_Location: Project Chimera Shipyard_  
_Date: November 24th, 2073  
_ _Time: 17:15_

 

Rapunzel shivered, feeling the cold bite of the November wind rush around her body as she leaned with her back against the _Valhalla_. Even under her standard issue trench coat, energy-dissipating body armour and military combat uniform, the bitter breeze consistently and irritatingly found a weakness, the tiniest patch where it could nip at her body. She drew her coat tighter around her in an effort to stave off the relentless shivers and silently noted that, quite frankly, she was sick of standing around in the middle of nowhere waiting for something to happen.

Astrid and Merida were nearby as well, with the former stood a few feet away to her left tossing stones into the dark in an attempt to alleviate the tedium, and the latter to her right testing the resistance and draw weight of her bow by pulling the string, focusing on the smallest bolt in the _Valhalla's_ hull and releasing an imaginary arrow, attracting the brunette's glances whenever she heard the _thwip_. Rapunzel had no idea why Merida chose to test her accuracy; the red-head's favourite party trick was to hit a bullseye without even looking.

So with her two friends nearby, the company was good even if she was bored out of her skull, she supposed...but then her eyes drew over to Elsa who aloofly stood with her back to the team, her arms folded and the trailing hem of her trench coat dancing in the breeze. Not once had she shivered - which Rapunzel found curious, though Merida and Astrid seemed to be resistant to the chilly air - and aside from the occasional glance back to her team, her silent gaze had remained fixed on a singular point in the pitch black several hundred yards north. Digging her heels into the grass, Rapunzel drew the coat's lapels around her mouth and nuzzled into it, hoping the heat of her breath would stymie the shivers.

"Stupid mobilisation orders." Astrid hissed, seemingly echoing everyone's thoughts, except maybe Elsa's. With an audible grunt, she viciously threw her newest stone into the dark, perfectly illustrating her frustration.

Crinkling the leather as she nodded her head, Rapunzel muffled, "Seconded."

"Thirded." Merida chirped in, twanging the bow for effect. "I was just sitting down tae test me Dad's latest whisky when I got tha call." she grumbled further. Sensing an opportunity for conversation, Rapunzel took it.

"What about you, Astrid?" the brunette asked, looking at the taller blonde through the corner of her eyes - moving her head while asking the question would have been respectful, but then the cold would have snuck into her neck and _oh dear_ , the shivers would come back.

Astrid froze in the middle of drawing her arm back as though the question took her off guard. "I was…" she hesitated. Frowning, Rapunzel watched as the blonde's arm slowly fell; Astrid was normally so sure of her words and of herself - being blunt and straightforward, she kind of had to be, so to see her be uncharacteristically uncertain of how to respond was curious, to say the least. "I was spending time with an old friend." she finally answered, and added, "What about you, Punzie?" just as she sent the stone on its merry way.

Wise to the change of subject, or rather, deflection, Rapunzel's lips curled into a wistful smile behind her lapels. "I was painting something. I had only just started, actually." she answered. Relaxing her arms, Merida glanced over to her and shot her an interested smile.

"I didn't know ye were an artist, Rapunzel." she said lightly.

"I dabble," Rapunzel shrugged, "it's more of a hobby, really."

"How come you didn't tell us?" Astrid asked. Noticing the stung tone to her voice, Rapunzel glanced awkwardly at her friend, and winced upon seeing the frown of disappointment etched upon her face.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to not tell you! I guess…" she began hastily, but trailed off as latent realisation crept up on her mind. Astrid always spoke the truth and expected the same of others, and though it technically wasn't her business, she didn't like it if things she considered important were kept from her - _especially_ between two people who were very close friends. Rapunzel inhaled a galvanizing, chilly breath through her nose, and after the inevitable sigh she continued, "I guess it was just something I wanted to do for me, you know? Kind of-kind of wind down after a hard day. Something that I wanted to keep to myself, if you catch my meaning. I'm...I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Astrid." she offered apologetically.

Surprisingly, and to her relief, Astrid's thin lips broke into a warm, understanding smile. "No need to apologise, Punzie." she soothed, "I know _exactly_ what you mean. We all need something for ourselves every once in awhile. Something just for us...so…" she continued as she squatted to pick up another stone, and then promptly tossed it towards its recently airborne brethren, "what did you paint?"

Her eyes crinkling with the smile of appreciation hidden under the leather, Rapunzel shrugged awkwardly. "Well, it's been three years since I last picked up a brush, so... _rusty_ is kind of an understatement, but...I call it _Lights._ It's supposed to be a young girl with a tonne of hair, trailing down the tree she's sitting on top of, while she watches these little lights floating in the night sky."

"Sounds pretty, lass." Merida said softly, with an almost undetectable hint of wistfulness to her voice.

Rapunzel would have responded with a remark on how her three-years-out-of-touch fingers had meant that the trees she was trying to paint looked like emerald green splodges on brown sticks, had a familiar face not crept into her mind upon realising the depth of Astrid's previous words. She could recall his chocolate-brown hair, silly little goatee and enchanting hazel eyes with astounding clarity, how his rugged charm seemed to annoy and amuse her in equal measure, how his genuine smiles sent her heart a-flutter, and that even though it was technically the first time they'd ever met, way back when in the Lower City bar, she felt a connection to him beyond anything she'd ever felt for anyone. One of those _love-yet-not-love-at-first-sight_ things that are usually dismissed as fairy tales.

Zach, if that even _was_ his real name, was one of those things she would have kept to herself, for herself. Her little slice of heaven in a cold world of decay, technology and sameness.

But then even that had to be taken away from her, heartbreakingly as a result of who she was.

She didn't know. Stars, how she wished she had known. She never intended for it, for any of it to happen, and was following orders - yet those orders incarcerated the friends of the very man she had feelings for. Those orders _killed_ them. It was like someone had said " _Well, we know you like this guy, and you're really sure he likes you...but...you're indirectly responsible for the deaths of the people he considers family, so...yeah. No happiness for you."_

Sniffing, she bitterly remembered how Frost's face had become as hard as diamond while he - with brutal honesty that even made Astrid wince - informed her that Zach wanted nothing to do with her. Revealed to her the gravity of what she'd done, and made her realise that she would never see his face, or hear his voice again.

Even several weeks later, leaning against the hard metal hull of the _Valhalla,_ she could still feel the stabbing pain in her heart that she felt when she realised that there was no way he would ever forgive her. It was a depressing situation to be ashamed of who you are, but that was what she was. Ashamed and disgusted.

"Hey, you okay?"

Drawn from her thoughts of self-reproach after feeling the resting of a hand on her shoulder, Rapunzel's gaze floated up from a fixed point in the grass to the concerned eyes of Astrid who had since abandoned her flight-testing of hapless stones to stand just a few feet away to her left. "Yeah, I'm...I'll be okay." she answered quietly.

Astrid's lips thinned, and she cocked her head slightly. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

Her eyes falling down to somewhere over the blonde's shoulder, Rapunzel's brows furrowed slightly, and a sorrowful sigh escaped her chest. Bereft of a reply that would, or _could_ , deflect her friend's attention, she chose to simply close her eyes, nod, and softly answer, "Yeah."

Astrid clucked her tongue, and the hand that rested upon her shoulder moved to her other one in order to pull her closer, something that Rapunzel was grateful for. Physical comfort was an understated boon in many things. "Astrid," she asked, "am I a…"

Frowning at her trailing off, Astrid prompted her. "Are you a what?"

"Am I a…" Rapunzel tried again, and after realising that the question was too important to be stymied by her hesitation, she forced the words out. "Am I a good person?"

She didn't see how Astrid's eyes momentarily flicked up to Merida's sympathetic expression, but _did_ feel the squeezing of the one-armed hug. "Yeah, Rapunzel. You are." came the reply, one that was supposed to sound reassuring, but gave no such comfort to the tormented brunette.

"Then why do I feel like the villain? Why…" she trailed off, aware that her voice had started to crack ever since the word ' _good'_. "Why do I feel like a monster?"

The pain in her heart pulsed with every beat, and she forced her eyes shut in the hopes of staving off the ache of regret and absence, of shutting out the imaginary scenarios of what befell Zach's squad. In a flash of cynicism, she noticed how Astrid seemed unable to answer her question, whether it was because she had no idea what to say, or she was enduring similar feelings, she didn't know - but the silence was telling.

Merida, however, displayed the wisdom she had been relied on for ever since they first met. "Sometimes," she paused, and a quick glance upon opening her eyes told Rapunzel that, like Astrid, the flame-haired woman was carefully choosing her words, "sometimes good people do bad things without meaning to. Sometimes good people," she continued, and Rapunzel didn't miss how her eyes briefly rested upon Elsa's back as she spoke, "become tha villain 'cause that's their fate."

Stiffening, Rapunzel felt her throat begin to close, making the subsequent swallow a herculean effort. Maybe Merida was right. Maybe in the tale of Zach and Rapunzel, the two star-crossed lovers, she was always destined to be the villain.

Astrid then chose that moment to add, "Sometimes good people do bad things," she paused, "because they don't have a choice."

And in that moment, Rapunzel knew that Astrid nailed it. If she had a choice, she would have been perfectly happy continuing to learn the art of healing and medical care in a civilian form. Happy to finish studying, move into her own place in New Corona, and continue the work of her parents in helping people. But one night, one accident changed all that, and her fate was decided for her.

Maybe they were both right, she pondered. Maybe she was destined to be the villain because she had no other choice.

"You know what, I'm bored," Astrid said abruptly, and a little on the loud side. "Hey, Snow Queen?" she called over to the aloof leader, "what are we waiting around for, again?"

Curious, and partly grateful for the change in subject that was remarkably effective at compartmentalising her torment, Rapunzel turned her gaze towards Elsa, and watched as her head turned slightly to the left. "What time is it?" she called back.

Merida cocked her head, and regarded her with a confused expression before quickly checking the time on her wrist-com. "Five-thirty." she yelled.

Rapunzel detected the traces of a knowing nod from her C.O. "You might want to cover your ears." was her loud reply.

Frowning in confusion, Astrid repeated "Cover our…" just before the meaning behind Elsa's cryptic reply hit them.

The wall of darkness before them split apart with a line of dazzling light that seemed to cut through to the heavens, a line that slowly but surely widened and widened, accompanied by the groaning and straining of metal scraping against metal. Her eyes fixed wholly upon the spectacle, Rapunzel pushed herself from the hull of the _Valhalla_ and slowly walked over to stand by her leader, blankly watching as the line of white light become more and more akin to a rectangle embedded in the black, positioned as though it was a part of the earth itself - but that couldn't be right.

Her answer came quicker - and _louder -_ than she could have anticipated.

The earth beneath them trembled and shook, like an impeccably timed earthquake under their feet produced by the rage of Mother Nature herself. "Woah!" Rapunzel gasped as she stumbled backwards, her arms flying out for something, or someone, to latch onto and prevent an undignified fall to the ground. It was then, that a hand lashed out and gripped tightly to her upper arm, and startled by how easily her footing was dislodged by the surprise shaking, she blinked at the owner of the hand - Elsa. It was then that an incongruent sense of perplexed curiosity joined the feelings of surprise and alarm at how her leader's face seemed to be a blank slate, that on some level she was expecting the rumbling under them. Briefly, ephemerally, she wondered why Elsa seemed to be unsurprised.

There came a deafening roar from within the rectangle of light, a thundering sound that melded with the quaking as though they were one, and as her wide-eyed gaze snapped away from her leader towards the source of the terrifying howl, Rapunzel felt her heart stop as she came face-to-face with precisely _what_ they had been waiting, in the dark, for over an hour for.

"Valkyries," Elsa yelled to make herself audible over the tremendous booming, "meet the _Hammer of Unity."_

Rapunzel was struck with the thought that she might never breathe again, as from within the light emerged a colossal vessel, rhombus-shaped, with four gigantic ionic thrust engines that hefted its impressive frame aloft. Rising from the ground, the _Hammer of Unity_ rose with a vengeance, with smoke and steam heralding its takeoff. Pure black, its presence was only given away by the light from which it was born, and the blue jets firing from its engines as it cleared the ground and slowly, unstoppably, ascended to the sky.

Her parents once told her that people see things differently, that each person has a specific view of the world around them, and it was no more true in that moment. She didn't know what was going through the minds of her friends, but in the mind of the young Rapunzel Corona…

Instead of observation windows in the bow of the ship, she saw a pupil-less white eye bearing down upon her and staring into her soul. Instead of four ionic engines, she saw black, frightening claws embedding their blue tips into the ground, and rather than a monolithic vessel, she saw a roaring, screaming beast clamouring its arrival as it clawed its way from the depths of hell, releasing itself into the unsuspecting world.

That wasn't the worst part, it wasn't what shook her to her very core and aroused the deepest fear that she had ever felt in her entire life as, with wide eyes, she watched the beast reveal its belly to her.

She was a healer, from a family of healers. She had always felt her calling was to care, to heal, to cure illness and patch up injury, and in a way that helped her identify precisely what the _Hammer of Unity_ was, what it represented - her antithesis.

It _stank_ of it.

Death.

* * *

_Elsa "Snow Queen" Snowfield_

* * *

 

_Location: Hammer of Unity, Engineering Room  
Date: November 24_ _th_ _, 2073_  
_Time: 19:45_

 

Elsa had never actually _seen_ an enhanced unidium drive in all its glory before, given that they were usually housed underground in one of the most heavily guarded places in all of the three cities. Access was restricted to all but the highest levels of government and the engineers responsible for keeping the power running and ensuring the drive's stability.

Which meant that one of the first things she did once she disembarked the _Valhalla_ was to navigate her way from the landing bay, situated in the _Hammer's_ belly, to the core room in her centre stern, two decks below. She always wanted to see what it looked like, and when she had passed through the heavy double doors to the engineering and power maintenance section, she finally did.

It was _beautiful._

Hovering in the dead centre of a vertical transparent cylinder roughly forty feet in height, surrounded by hexagonal upper and lower catwalks ten feet away, was something that could be described as a miniature solar eclipse – a pitch black sphere surrounded by a halo of faintly glowing amber light. No matter how many times Elsa walked the upper catwalk the "halo" would always follow her, almost as though it was watching her. A spherical abyss that observed, weighed and judged her – or that was how it felt, at least.

The strangest thing was: the longer she looked into the abyss ahead and a few feet below her, the more it saw of her and the harder it was to tear her eyes away. It entranced her – lured her – and a small part of her wondered if she wasn't staring at a sphere of highly reactive enhanced unidium suspended by a gravitational field, but her _soul._

Something as black as the armour that protected the hull of the _Hammer_ , that was all that was left after little pieces of it were taken away to pay for every single step of her journey – which was almost at an end…

…or maybe it was merely a sphere of _highly reactive enhanced unidium suspended by a gravitational field,_ and she was just placing an existential, spiritual quality upon something whose only reason for existence was to supply power to double-decker cities…or flying fortresses. Maybe her disquieted, uncertain state of mind was causing her to see things that were not there, like how Commander Larsen arbitrarily and rather pointedly suggested that the helmsman guided the _Hammer_ on an eastern heading once they had reached an altitude of three thousand feet.

What she _did_ know was that she had spent a long time losing herself in the void, leaning with her hands upon the upper catwalk's safety rail. How long though, she couldn't say, but she had a growing suspicion that she had been there for long enough to dull her senses – a suspicion soon confirmed.

"So _this_ is an enhanced drive."

Elsa's heart skipped a beat as she woke from her trance with a start, and shot the briefest of glances at her second, who casually rested her arms upon the safety rail as she too stared into the solar eclipse, wearing an unimpressed expression. "I thought it'd be cooler looking." Astrid added.

"Astrid…" Elsa blurted quietly. Astrid shot her a look from the corner of her eye, and the left side of her lips curled into the beginnings of a smirk. Feeling the distinct suspicion that her second was amused at being able to sneak up on her – not that it was in any way difficult to do so, given her obliviousness to the goings on around her not long ago – and refusing to concede this victory, Elsa's demeanour instinctively shifted away from surprise. Straightening up like a tower, she drew her hands behind her back and coolly added, "What can I do for you?"

Astrid's faint smirk dropped like a stone, and she stiffly drew herself to her full height of five inches taller than Elsa. "What can you do?" she repeated, defensively folding her arms, "Quite a few things, actually. None of them I can say in polite company."

Elsa rolled her eyes with a derisive sigh, and returned her attention to the void. "Business as usual, then."

"Uh-huh."

"It's a shame. We could have been friends."

Astrid grunted. "Sure. Friends don't threaten each other with imprisonment and execution."

"You did sleep with Frost." Elsa pointed out with irritation.

"How many times do I have to tell you; I didn't know it was him!" Astrid hissed as she leaned towards her, "What else do you need to get that into your thick, vengeful head? Placards? Pie charts? A fucking theatre production?"

Elsa didn't shift her gaze from the core while responding with an eerie, tense calm. "You do realise," she reminded her, "that we are on duty, and I could have you court martialled for talking to me in such a way?"

The silence and lack of a snappy retort from her usually stubborn second in command was satisfying _and_ telling in equal measure, as was the barely concealed petulance in her reply, "Yes ma'am," along with the apology which she almost spat, "sorry, _ma'am."_

Elsa cast Astrid a slow look, and saw that she was bolt upright with her hands laced behind her back, staring intently into the unidium core, breathing loudly through her nose while the muscles in her jaw tensed and relaxed over and over again. Elsa opened her mouth to say something – she wasn't sure _what_ to say, though, and decided to keep it formal.

"Rephrasing my original question: why are you here?"

"I'm here to let you know that the Valkyries are on standby, ready to deploy when ordered." Astrid answered flatly, her eyes burning into the spherical void.

"I'm glad to hear it," Elsa said, "but why did you feel the need to tell me in person rather than by wrist-com?"

"Well, I was curious as to where you'd been for the past ninety minutes." Astrid said offhandedly.

Elsa's lips parted in surprise. She knew she'd spent a little too long lost in thought and memory, but she didn't think it was _ninety minutes._ She knew that the passage of time was a non-factor when staring into a happily crackling fire, so it stood to reason that the same concept would apply when gazing at a lambent unidium drive – but _ninety minutes?_ She inwardly kicked herself for being so ignorant.

"Thank you, regardless, for coming to inform me in person." Elsa said a little loudly, trying to cover her surprise. Astrid muttered a sullen "… _welcome"_ as she continued to burn the dark orb with her gaze.

Elsa's gaze lingered on the blonde as she internally debated whether or not it was worth striking up a conversation, or even just _talking_ , when it was obvious that Astrid wasn't interested. She couldn't really blame her – anger had taken root in her heart, overwhelming her mind and sensibilities during the argument in the plaza's public bathroom. A lot of things had been said that she later regretted, once she had cooled off a couple of hours after returning to consciousness in Frost's apartment – but not before enduring the shame of being so easily ambushed, of course.

Yet, the damage had evidently been done, and there seemed to be no way that the situation between them would ever resolve itself. Pride took the place of resignation as she looked away from her subordinate and returned her attention to the lambent core, figuring that if Astrid didn't want to talk then it was no skin off her nose. She hadn't forgotten her mission, three years in the making. Finding out why Frost and the Ghosts murdered her parents was the only thing that mattered – not a relationship that, quite clearly, had no hope of being repaired.

If Astrid wanted there to be tension between them, that was fine by her.

The background noise drifted in and out of her ears as she stood, a noise filled with the various pitch of beeps, hurried conversations between engineers as they relayed readings to one another, and the occasional announcement over the ship-wide P.A. system for one particular officer to report to a certain place. She remained like that for some time, ostensibly as well as Astrid, choosing to ignore the feeling of awkwardness and unsaid words that grew within her heart.

So she decided that just because she and Astrid shared an uneasy truce, she might as well engage in small talk to pass the time, even if she refused to look at her subordinate and presumably, vice versa.

"This will be our last mission as a team." Elsa observed quietly.

"Mm-hm."Astrid hummed with obvious indifference.

A little stung by her response, Elsa nevertheless continued, "What do you intend to do when it's over?"

"Resign."

Elsa's brows furrowed, and she turned her head to face her teammate. "What? You don't intend to continue being a Valkyrie?"

"Nope." Astrid continued the theme of one-word answers.

"That's a shame, you're a capable warrior. Why did you choose-"

"Some of us didn't have a choice." Astrid snapped. Watching her intently, Elsa saw how her expression went from hurt, to horror, then self-reproach in the space of two seconds, followed by a sigh.

"What do you mean by that?" Elsa asked.

"Nothing."

"I will make it an order, Astrid. Tell me what you mean by that – and yes, you have permission to speak freely." she persisted. Astrid shot her a deeply irritated scowl – Elsa disliked having to essentially _force_ her subordinate to speak, but the way she blurted without thinking but _with_ meaning aroused a deep curiosity.

"Fine," Astrid said bitterly as she glared at the unidium core, "let's just say that my parents had a compelling reason to sign me up for the Valkyrie Program – and before you _order_ me to tell you, no. They didn't tell me what that reason was, as usual."

She turned the glare back to Elsa, who wondered why the core hadn't burst into flames, before adding, "Story of my life. There, you happy? Besides…" her gaze softened as she trailed off and returned her attention to the core, "When this is all over, we'll be out of a job. Not like we'll be needed if there are no Ghosts to hunt…hell, with this flying monstrosity," she paused to raise her eyes to the ceiling, "pretty sure we won't even be needed for a war."

Elsa looked away as Astrid's words hit home – she had been trying not to think about her future beyond the Valkyries ever since she saw the _Hammer_ for the first time, both out of uncertainty and of the unwillingness to concede that Inquisitor Jafar's words had left a mark…again, pride had a hand in that. Her old life was dead and so being a Valkyrie was all she had ever known, and the distinct possibility that her tenure was coming to an end was something that sat firmly in the back of her mind despite all attempts to ignore it.

She knew _what_ she wanted to do – she would search for Anna, and even _if_ she could not do so in her current role, she could always join a different section of the military and find her that way. Perhaps the Intelligence branch would be better suited.

"Speaking of this ship," Astrid added, jarring Elsa from her thoughtful state, "I have to admit: though it is pretty impressive, it makes me wonder how it was built right under our noses without anyone knowing about it – especially since it's armed to the teeth with Hoffertech cannons. The best part is, my parents sent me the blueprints to those cannons, asking me if I knew what they were for. Now I know – they were designed for the _Hammer of Overkill._ "

Even though she was staring intently at the lambent unidium core, trying her best to not be a part of the context of Astrid's monologue, she could _feel_ the glare of suspicion and curiosity as it shifted from the orb to rest upon the side of her face.

Then the inevitable question came, "Did _you_ know about the _Hammer?_ "

Elsa remained silent as she continued to observe the core – she didn't really _have_ to answer Astrid's question. It wasn't any of her business whether she knew of the _Hammer_ or not, and part of her regretted that she granted her permission to speak freely, if not rescind it immediately. Her lips became a thin line as she nibbled the inside.

"Elsa?" Astrid persisted, and she was left with the sneaking suspicion that her second-in-command had her tenacious head on, and wasn't going to let the subject drop.

"Yes, I knew." she answered flatly.

She heard a loud exhalation of breath as it rushed from Astrid's nose like an uncomfortable waterfall, followed by the next logical question, "How long?"

"I've known for a month and a half." Elsa answered. Astrid gaped, repeated " _a month and…"_ in surprise and, through the corner of her eye, she could easily discern the way the taller blonde threw her hands into the air in exasperation. Elsa didn't know precisely _why_ Astrid was reacting in such a manner – if Commander Larsen deigned it pertinent to inform Astrid of the _Hammer's_ existence then he would have invited her as well.

"I'm sorry; this shit-right here," Astrid said loudly, jabbing a finger at the floor for emphasis, "is why we don't trust you."

Elsa was beginning to reach her limit of patience, and rounded upon the taller Valkyrie. "You never trusted me from the beginning." she snapped.

"You're absolutely right, Elsa. We didn't trust you. Want to know why?" Astrid said defensively.

Elsa rolled her eyes with derision. "I'm sure you'll enlighten me."

"Rapunzel, Merida and I made friends at the start. We talked and we spent time around each other. Then you come along – we try to make friends with you, but you're cold and aloof. You were all " _Frost this"_ and " _Frost that"_ and " _I'm only here because I want to kill Frost",_ not giving two shits about us or getting to know us. You didn't care then and you don't now. Only thing you care about is nailing Frost, and you were perfectly willing to throw us all under the bus to get to him – which, as I understand it, you _failed to do_." Astrid ranted. Elsa felt her composure begin to slip under the weight of such a verbal assault – but strangely, even though Astrid was completely right…she was okay with it. The last time she opened up and tried to make friends, she found out that not only was Frost in the city and _under her nose the whole time_ , but her second-in-command had slept with him…however mistaken or not the act was.

"Are you done?" Elsa said with a cold calm as she slowly walked towards her subordinate.

"Not by a long shot." Astrid growled low.

"Well that's too bad, because your permission to speak freely has been rescinded. Are you listening?" Elsa asked loudly and with a challenging tone. Astrid, presumably deprived of her original response, simply stiffened and answered with a " _yes ma'am"._

"Good, because there are two things you're forgetting – one, information of the _Hammer_ was given on a strictly need-to-know basis, so Commander Larsen evidently deemed it that you didn't need to know. Secondly, there is this little thing called the chain of command, and you seem to have mistaken where you are on it. I have been letting it slide because you're a good Valkyrie, but it ends now. Do I make myself clear?" Elsa said commandingly. Astrid, after a few seconds of petulant glowering, responded with a mutter of something Elsa couldn't catch – so she leaned closer, and pointed a finger at her ear.

"Yes ma'am." Astrid said in a louder voice, though not without the bitterness.

"Furthermore, I do not need your opinion, or your friendship. What I need from you is your ability to follow orders, and combat skills. Am I clear, Valkyrie?" Elsa continued, gazing coldly and unwaveringly into the anger-filled sky blue eyes of her second-in-command.

"Yes ma'am." Astrid responded stiffly.

Elsa's hard gaze lingered for some time while she read every inch of Astrid's thinly veiled scowl for the smallest sign of insubordination, and allowed the background sounds of the engineering section to drift between them. Astrid's left eye twitched in response to an errant section of her bangs that tickled her eyelid, but she seemed to be in favour of matching Elsa glare for glare rather than alleviating her eyelid's discomfort.

"Good." Elsa announced brusquely after a time. She turned from Astrid and began to make her way to the other side of the hexagonal catwalk where a ladder would take her down to the main engineering level, but paused in step as she was reminded of a mental note she made when the _Hammer_ took off for the first time.

With her back to her, Elsa turned her head to speak over her shoulder, "When the time comes that we engage the Ghosts, leave Frost to me."

"Why, ma'am?" Astrid asked through gritted teeth.

"You are a skilled combatant, Astrid, but Frost can and will make a mockery of you. He is too fast and too agile for your strikes – I am the only one who can defeat him, so leave him to me. That's an order." Elsa explained, wondering why she needed to and why Astrid simply couldn't accept it.

"Yes ma'am." was the rather sullen response of assent, though as Elsa resumed her walk towards the ladder with the intention of testing the fitness equipment in the training rooms, she had a strong suspicion that when battle was joined, Astrid would probably give into pride and charge.

At least it would ensure that Frost would be too busy to notice her before she slid her sword through his back.

* * *

 

_Time: 20:44_

 

" _Valkyrie Leader Snowfield and Valkyrie Second Hofferson, report to the bridge."_

The ship-wide announcement that was sent out over the P.A. ten minutes ago had filled Elsa's lightly sweating form with a deep sense of curiosity, enough for her to abandon beating seven shades of hell out of a punch bag, snatch a towel from the rack near the door to quickly dry herself off, carelessly toss it back and swiftly exit the fitness room like it was on fire.

Throughout the hasty ascent of two decks and several long steel grey corridors, her mind worked furiously as to why she had been summoned – Valkyries weren't exactly Unity Air Force-slash-Navy troops, so there was no real reason she would be needed on the bridge unless Commander Larsen or Captain Bludvist had something they wanted to boast about. Maybe Hans just wanted an update on the operational status of her team…or he heard of the argument in the engineering room and they had been summoned for a public chewing out. Astrid presumably had the same thought when she linked up with Elsa shortly before they rounded a corner into the corridor that led to the southeast corner of the bridge, a long, wide and slightly inclined passage that featured soft white strip lights where the light grey panelled walls met the similarly coloured ceiling and the matt black floor.

As they reached the transparent door that barred entry to the bridge, Elsa exchanged fleeting glances with Astrid, and wondered if the anxiousness she saw in the sky blue of Astrid's eyes was merely a reflection of her own, or if the headstrong Valkyrie was _actually_ concerned about precisely why she had been summoned as well.

The thudding heartbeat? _That_ was hers.

Her vest-covered chest rose as she sucked in a breath through her nose and forced it from her mouth. She turned her head to the right where a small console was fixed halfway up the wall. It was only a basic, small thing – a circular speaker and two buttons, one white and labelled _Bridge Comm_ , and the other labelled _Security Bulkhead._ Elsa thumbed the white button.

" _Bridge."_ a brusque and slightly nasal voice blurted from the speaker.

"Valkyries Snowfield and Hofferson, reporting as ordered." Elsa declared.

The double doors hissed apart to grant her access, and engulfed with a rush of anxiety she stepped over the threshold before they had even fully opened – hesitating would make her look weak in front of everyone on the bridge, and more importantly in front of Astrid. No way in hell was she going to let that happen and undermine the earlier display of superiority.

The nerve centre of the Hammer was humming with leisurely activity, with the bridge crew in no particular hurry to complete their individual tasks – though, if the _Hammer's_ mission was simply to aimlessly fly in an arbitrary direction while kinks were worked out, capabilities tested and to isolate any problems that didn't show up in simulations, she supposed that there wasn't much need for haste.

The bridge itself was unusually large, though well-lit and constructed in the same design as the corridor behind her – matt black floor, light grey panelled walls and identically coloured ceiling with _zero_ artistic flair. At the circular rear of the bridge to Elsa's left, some way behind the captain's chair was a rectangular holographic mapping table of similar design to the one in the Valkyrie briefing room, where two crew members were tracking the _Hammer's route_ over Unity territory via a shimmering blue landscape and a single, irregular line. Upon the dais Captain Bludvist lounged in the captain's chair, his eyes forward and focused upon something on the impossibly wide view-screen ahead. With his voluminous chin in his left hand, he looked the epitome of bored – possibly due to the lack of a good fight.

Ahead of the captain's chair were two consoles, one for the helmsman and one for the tactical officer. Seemingly, being a helmsman was easy – all he needed to do was input destination coordinates, set a speed and sit back as the _Hammer's_ main computer did the rest. Sure, there was probably the odd course change to be done in cases of inclement weather or emergency, and a more " _hands-on"_ holographic interface in case navigating the ship required a human touch, but for the most part guiding the flying titan was hands free.

The weapons were trickier, from what she had heard, and as she flicked her eyes over to the console ahead and slightly to the right of Captain Bludvist, she saw the tactical officer hard at work conducting simulated broadsides and land bombardments, his fingers furiously typing in degrees. For all intents and purposes, activating the _Hammer's_ weaponry was almost as simple as navigating it, with the targeting systems connected to the scanners and therefore able to track a target based on emissions or a specific shape – but if push came to shove and the scanners were inoperable, then four crew members could manually operate the medium cannons on the main deck using control columns and targeting screens on the bridge – far less accurate, but adequate in a pinch.

Integrated into the wall to her right were three separate displays with the ubiquitously used translucent blue holographic readouts and images hovering a few inches before the displays themselves; _Sensors,_ which had data relating to wind speed, direction, outside temperature and meteorological calculations; _Ship Systems,_ which displayed information relating to power consumption, efficiency and distribution, as well as damage reports and various other internal scan results, and finally; _Communications_ , whose holographic data displayed various messages Elsa could not read from where she stood, but she could see the speech line of a Uni-Com below them, and a rather flustered looking communications officer stood a foot away from the dancing blue lights, pressing a wireless earpiece into his ear while he frowned uncomprehendingly.

"Uh, Captain," the comms officer called loudly over his shoulder, "I'm recording some chatter over the waves, and I think it's Alliance but…"

"But _what?"_ Drago snapped, attracting both Elsa's notice and, judging by the low growl that rumbled from her throat, Astrid's ire.

"I can't understand the language, sir." the officer finished ashamedly, his eyes falling to the ground.

Drago, his eyes firmly fixed on the back of the poor officer's head, rose from his captain's chair and slowly walked to stand behind him, regarding him with a contemptuous sneer. "What use have I for a communications officer who cannot understand a different language?" he growled.

"Y-yes, sir. No use at all, sir. I can only-" the young man stuttered, until-

"Give me the earpiece."

Elsa's eyes shot from Drago to Astrid, who had glided over to the comms display with her right hand outstretched, glaring daggers at the formidable captain. Feeling her heart shoot into her throat at the possibility of a brawl on the bridge of Unity's newest flagship, she hurried over to her second's side and hissed into her ear, "What do you think you're doing?!"

Astrid ignored her, and continued, "You want to know what the Alliance are saying? I can tell you. Just give me the earpiece."

Elsa's eyes danced between Drago and Astrid, whose stony, _bring-it-on_ glares were in danger of causing a critical mass of violence. Even the rest of the bridge crew stopped whatever tasks they were working on to watch the situation unfold. Thankfully, and oddly, the one to avert disaster was Drago himself. "Do it." he ordered, and as though the very device was burning him, the nervous officer yanked the earpiece out of his ear and placed it in Astrid's outstretched hand.

Naturally, after a quick wiping of the tiny speaker, Astrid slotted it into her right ear and frowned as she listened to whatever, or _who_ ever was speaking on the other side. Elsa watched as her eyes danced left and right, the way they do when someone is paying close attention. "Again." she asked-slash-ordered, and the officer obediently moved the holographic slider to the beginning with his finger. Squinting, Astrid cocked her head to the right, and said, "One more time?".

The officer repeated his movement with the slider and returned his expectant gaze to her. Curious, Elsa too watched her second-in-command; of the things that Astrid was capable of, discerning languages she did not expect.

Finally, after a long silence that was starting to adopt more and more tension as time went on, Astrid closed her eyes and nodded as she plucked the earpiece from her ear and returned it to its rightful owner. "The language was Russian, Captain, and your officer was right. It was Alliance, just some ship captain reporting that Grid Six is all clear, and they're moving onto Grid Seven."

Drago's jaw tensed as his eyes took on a dark shadow, and grunted dismissively before returning to the captain's chair. "You're welcome." Astrid muttered waspishly, though did offer a curt nod to the officer when he mouthed a relieved " _thank you"._

"I didn't know you knew Russian…" Elsa said, frowning.

"Lot of things you don't know about me, Snow Queen," Astrid replied standoffishly, folding her arms as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, "but in case you're going to order me; Mom and Dad thought it'd be a good idea for me to learn other languages just in case."

A surge of defensive hostility blossomed within Elsa at Astrid's rudeness, but as she opened her mouth to retort, a familiar voice called out from the other side of the bridge and distracted both her attention, and that of her second in command.

"Ah, Snow Queen and Viking, you're here. Excellent!" Hans exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Stood by a pair of open grey doors labeled _Briefing Room,_ the auburn-haired commander regarded them expectantly. "Your briefing is ready. Follow me." he announced, then swiftly passed through the doorway and out of sight.

Elsa shot a glance at Astrid before obeying Hans' request, and with the taller Valkyrie behind her, she followed the commander into the briefing room, feeling a blossom of eager anticipation swelling in her heart.

The doors closed behind them with a _ssshht,_ and she took a brief moment to centre herself and examine the room, though after a few seconds she realised she needn't have bothered; the same muted and militaristic walls surrounded them, the same floor...the only differences being the presence of a large Uni-Com at the far end of the rectangular room, and a gun-metal grey rectangular table with curved corners and flanked by ten chairs sat proudly in the centre, the head of which was occupied by her commander, who sat with his elbows on the table and his gloved fingers laced together, waiting patiently.

"Please sit," he offered, gesturing to the chairs to his left. Shooting another glance to her second, one that pretty much screamed ' _be on your best behaviour',_ Elsa obediently moved over to the closest seat and sank into it, resting her elbows on the chair's arms and entwining her fingers across her chest. The sound of crinkling leather graced her ears from her left; Astrid had followed suit, though her arms were folded defensively, but like Elsa she regarded Commander Hans with patient curiosity and anticipation.

Hans gazed at them silently for a few seconds, his face blank, before clapping his hands together and abruptly shooting to his feet and rounding his chair. Turning to the Uni-Com, he pressed a button on its black desk and began, "Now, we don't have much time, so I'll get right to it; an hour ago, I received a communique from Inquisitor Jafar regarding some information he was able to glean from one of the scouts we captured after the Battle of the Depot."

While holographic images, messages and shapes burst into life in front of them, Elsa automatically tallied what she was listening to, to her conversation with the Inquisitor himself in the museum. Three had committed suicide, so the information must have been gained from the fourth.

"Unfortunately the poor man had a psychotic break early into his questioning and has since been committed, however in between the insane babbling and rambling, the Inquisitors discerned two things. One, a name; _Guardian Star._ " Hans continued, and then ordered the Uni-Com, "Exhibit A1."

The shimmering blue images shrank to a fraction of their size, except for a small rectangle that shot down to the centre of the table, and grew ten times larger. Quietly, Elsa gasped as the shape began to take form - an ancient aircraft carrier, slowly revolving clockwise in front of them. The same one she saw in the _Hammer_ shipyard's observation room.

"This is…"

What she was about to say was something to that effect, but Commander Hans evidently misinterpreted her meaning. "Yes, Elsa. We think this is the base of operations for the Ghosts, and for the Abnormal Resistance."

Elsa's heart skipped a beat, and her breath ceased in her lungs as she came to terms with the revelation...she had briefly entertained the idea that the end was in sight for her personal mission as soon as Commander Hans mobilised the Valkyries three days ago, but tried not to pursue that thought in case her hopes were dashed...though she couldn't resist warning Astrid to stay away from Frost. She felt a little possessive in that regard; if Frost was to die, it would be by _her_ hand.

But it was true. Justice was near.

"Not only that," Hans continued, slowly pacing the other side of the table, "but the scout also let slip a series of numbers. Coordinates, to be exact, leading us to…" he paused to issue another order to the Uni-Com, which obediently wiped away the carrier's image and replaced it with a map of Unity territory and the Atlantic Ocean, "a point three hundred miles south of Greenland. Naturally, I gave the order to divert our course to investigate."

That felt awfully convenient to Elsa, especially since she knew that the carrier in the hologram was a spitting image of the one she saw before. Not to mention that on the day the _Hammer_ underwent her shakedown cruise to isolate, fix and prevent any glitches that might occur, Jafar was suddenly able to supply critical information.

But in the face of the imminent completion of her mission, seductive as it was, her suspicions found themselves swiftly compartmentalised.

"Do they know we know? That we're coming?" Astrid asked.

"No," Hans answered, shaking his head, "they are unaware. They know nothing of this ship, or that we are on an intercept course-which brings me to the next part of this briefing. Snow Queen, you and your team are to take the _Valhalla_ while we are twenty minutes away, land on the _Guardian Star's_ deck and infiltrate the ship, where you will isolate and shut down any power systems and defenses they may have, allowing our troops to sweep in and capture the Resistance without...well...resistance. If you encounter the Ghosts, or anyone in your way, you are to incapacitate them - this is a _non-lethal operation."_

Elsa's expression of dismay was obvious, so much so that the commander seemingly felt it necessary to amend, "although, I suppose loss of life in certain circumstances is unavoidable, especially if your safety is at risk." he finished - Elsa caught the knowing smile he gave her.

"However," he added, and his voice took on a serious tone that told Elsa he wasn't playing, just as he leaned with his fists upon the table, "I feel obliged to warn you: we are on _their_ turf. We are the invaders in _their_ place of safety. They will fight, they will fight hard and they will fight to the _end._ Do _not_ underestimate them; the most dangerous creatures are those that are cornered, and fighting for their survival. Mark my words, the Ghosts _will_ be fighting for their survival, so be prepared to fight harder than you did in the Depot."

Straightening up, Hans laced his fingers behind his back, allowing Elsa to assimilate the information. She wasn't stupid; she knew that with his back to the wall, Frost could be a deadly opponent, but she was resolved to finish it. Either her, or him. Only one of them would be standing when the dust settled, and she would be the one.

"To that end, as soon as this briefing is finished, you and your team are to report to the armoury where the quartermaster will install vitals-tracking software into your energy-dissipation suits, so we can watch over your health. After that, you are to suit up, arm yourselves and report to the _Valhalla_ where you will wait for the order to deploy. Do you understand these orders?" he finished solemnly and matter-of-factly.

Elsa nodded, as did Astrid. If she had to be honest, she would have worn anything, endured any form of tracking software, even fought without weapons if it meant she could take the opportunity.

"Good," Hans smiled, and calmly said, "You're dismissed, and good luck."

* * *

_Jack "Frost" Overland_

* * *

 

_Location: Guardian Star  
Time: 21:15_

 

The sound of Jack's fists pummelling a punch bag reverberated around the Ghost's training room, surrounded by exercise mats, weights and close-combat weapon racks, like an oddly satisfying rhythm created only by him, and each _thump_ that his ears registered fuelled the next punch. Of course he should probably have been practising his kicks too, but if he was honest he felt like working off some stress.

Despite his hands being wrapped by a couple of layers of material, each sharp connection his knuckles made with the vinyl sheath sent small shocks of pain through his arms, adding to an already cumulative effect of making his knuckles and wrists ache with use – though, beating the shit out of a hapless punch bag tends to have that effect.

Just switch off the mind and swing away.

The midsection of the bag caved sharply under the swift and brutal _jab-jab-cross_ , jarring it and the chain it was suspended by into a jerking shudder. The light sweat on his exposed skin felt cool thanks to the air around him, helping to cool him down whilst he worked himself up, wailing on the punch bag like it was a Valkyrie. Certainly, a _real_ one of those wouldn't stand still long enough for him, but still – in that moment, he could always pretend. His fists lashed out over and over again, each time striking the bag harder than before, eventually reaching the point that he was no longer practising his hand-to-hand combat attacks, but simply beating the everliving crap out of the helpless punch bag with raw, unrefined strikes.

Breathless, he applied three more inelegant hits to the bag's midsection before he inevitably gave way to fatigue, and as he held the gently swinging bag with both hands to steady it, he closed his eyes and rested his lightly sweating forehead against the cool sheath while panting away the ache in his arms.

It was his panting that meant he missed the sound of the watertight door opening behind him, along with the footsteps that followed - but he didn't miss the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, nor the disdainful sigh that appeared to his left.

"Koz." he stated simply.

"Overland." came the low reply.

Pushing his head off the punch bag, he glared at Kozmotis out of the corner of his eye, who was stood next to a table against the left wall, clad in his ever-present Ghost uniform and had his back to him while his partially obscured arms moved round and round - evidently his taller ' _friend'_ was here for the same reason Jack was, and was in the process of wrapping his hands with cloth. Jack stared at him for a few seconds more as Kozmotis straightened his black T-shirt, wondering if he should say anything, if he should address the metaphorical elephant in the room that had been shadowing him since he arrived at _Sanctuary_. They both knew _why_ Kozmotis had been giving him the silent treatment, so in a weird way he figured it was a case of ' _why say anything'_. Partially out of petulant spite, out of anger that Kozmotis would throw away years of fighting side by side for the ' _crime'_ of sleeping with a Valkyrie. He gave nothing away and Kozmotis knew it; if he had, then the Dead Zone would have been swarming with _Einherjar_ squadrons.

But he knew that his comrade was black-and-white, and Hiccup reinforced that knowledge; they were the enemy, and Jack had sex with one of them. Maybe their friendship _was_ truly over.

Sighing, he released the punch bag, moved over to pick up his towel from the rack on the wall to the right, and made his way to the door, and just as he wrapped his hands around the wheel to open it, Kozmotis' voice rang out behind him.

"Was it worth it?"

Hesitating, Jack exhaled a long, exasperated breath through his nose as his hands instinctively tightened around the metal ring. "Was what worth it?" he answered flatly.

"Sticking your dick inside that Valkyrie. Was the sex good? Was her," Kozmotis paused, whether for effect or as though to force the words out, "body...desirable?"

Jack closed his eyes and released one hand to tap twice against the door, the metallic thump serving to both punctuate the situation and galvanise himself for the inevitable onslaught. "The sex was great, not that you remember what sex feels like, and she was pretty hot, yeah. Why do you care?" he sighed.

"I don't," Kozmotis replied far too airily, "I just wanted to know how attractive this Valkyrie must have been, to convince our best Ghost to betray us. She must have been a real gem."

"I didn't betray anyone, Kozmotis. It was nothing more than a mission - I am still a loyal-"

"Liar," Kozmotis cut him off, "you're a liar. You could have walked away, but you didn't. You chose to sleep with her, to make her scream, to satisfy your own desires. Don't hide behind objectives."

Jack's breathing became deeper and deeper, almost exclusively through his nose. His hands, which had since left the wheel, clenched so hard that his nails dug painfully into his skin. He tried to think of good things, of the children undoubtedly asleep in _Sanctuary,_ of his friendship with Anna and the army of snowmen they made three days ago - anything to stem the tide of rage swelling from his heart. So focused was he on controlling his anger, that Kozmotis took it as a cue to continue...and in true Pitch Black form, he went straight for the jugular.

"You're lucky, you know, but you should feel ashamed of yourself. Lying to Neve and Anna like that...they don't think any worse of you, but I do. I think you're nothing but a deceitful…"

"Don't." Jack snarled.

"...filthy…"

"I'm warning you…" Jack growled, practically shouted.

"...traitor." Kozmotis sneered.

That was it, the moment he snapped, enraged by the goading words of his team-mate. With a roar of anger, he turned on a dime and charged into Kozmotis, intent on tackling him to the ground and punching _him_ as hard as the bag. If he couldn't convince him of the truth with words, then fists would have to suffice.

Unfortunately, his moves were obvious even if Kozmotis wasn't waiting for him; as soon as his left shoulder connected sharply with Kozmotis' lower ribcage, he felt an elbow be driven into his back to wind him, and almost as soon as the strangled cry of pain escaped his throat, a knee flew into his forehead and sent him backwards to the floor. Groaning, dazed, he coughed his breath back as the pain blossoming in his spine argued with the newly created headache.

_That was stupid, Jack. He saw that coming a mile away._

"Come on! You can do better than that!" Kozmotis taunted, and the way his voice moved from left to right told Jack he was being circled like prey, "Show me I'm wrong! Prove it to me!"

Even under the daze, Jack knew he needed an edge. Kozmotis was itching for a fight, and if he was ready for you, he was one of the most dangerous hand-to-hand combatants on the ship. If Jack was to defend himself, and _win,_ then he needed to surprise him, and use his superior speed and agility. So, whispering something unintelligible, he faked his fading daze into being more profound than it was by blinking vacantly, and straining to roll onto his side. Kozmotis sneered something about him being so weak that he couldn't even speak properly, before grasping his sleeveless T-shirt and yanking him to his feet.

Staring into the judgemental, venomous golden eyes of his friend, Jack offered half a smirk.

_Perfect._

Kozmotis' eyes widened in realisation, but far too late for him to do anything; Jack lashed his open hands up to either side of the taller Ghost's head and sharply slapped his ears. Howling in pain, Kozmotis recoiled and shot his hands up to protect them, and taking advantage of the resultant disorientation - dazing, pain, ringing of the ears - Jack drove his forehead into his cheek, followed by a thrust into his chest with his right fist, forcing Kozmotis to hunch over and bark a cough. He swung a left hook into his right cheek, hard enough to further daze him, and in a spectacular display of fancy acrobatics, he launched himself towards the nearby table, leapt onto it and used his left foot to push himself into the air, twist around and slam his left fist into the same cheek.

Kozmotis hit the floor chest down with a thud, coughing hoarsely and groaning with the brand new injuries he sustained. Invigorated by his cunning reversal, Jack sniffed before wiping his nose with his left index finger, and began to pace up and down whilst glaring at his fallen opponent.

"Feeling it yet?" he snarled breathlessly, "Feeling my heartfelt remorse for my traitorous ways?"

Kozmotis laughed - _actually laughed -_ and spat out some blood onto the blue exercise mat as he pushed himself up. If he was honest, Jack entertained the brief hope that when the inevitable bruise blossomed on his cheek, it would hurt like hell.

"Oh, I'm feeling it," he panted, and spat out some more blood - the resulting tap telling Jack that a tooth had been dislodged as well, "but I'm still not- _convinced!"_ he yelled the final word as he surged towards Jack with his right hand drawn back and flat.

Gasping, Jack twisted to the left and narrowly avoided the knife-hand aimed for his throat as he passed, and in the briefest moment of clarity noted that Kozmotis was sloppy; he enjoyed misdirection, so even if Jack dodged the throat jab, there _should_ have been a strike into his side half a second after. Except there wasn't, so why was Kozmotis holding back?

The thought promptly flew out of the metaphorical window, as Kozmotis' left elbow came out of nowhere and crashed into his upper lip, splitting it and allowing his opponent to follow up with a right boot to the chest. Having tensed his muscles just in time, Jack was only partially winded by the impact, and was therefore able to duck the subsequent left swing and dart behind him - which was lucky, as it came with enough power to knock him on his ass, with at least one spin in the air before he would have landed. Not to be deterred, Kozmotis fluidly administered a right hook kick that nearly took Jack's head off had he not ducked _that_ too. Jack aimed a snap kick at Kozmotis' exposed head, his body still in post-kick-recovery mode, but the taller man seemingly recovered faster than anticipated...or Jack, in his exhaustion from both a session with the punch bags and holding his own, was slower than normal. Either way, his foot was caught with both hands before it reached the taller Ghost's jaw, and his world went topsy-turvy when he felt a foot sweep under the one still planted on the ground. Impacting the mat with a pained grunt, he winced through the pain erupting in his mouth, spine, head and chest, and with another fearful gasp rolled to the left and narrowly avoided a boot to the face. Gritting his teeth and enduring the angry resurgence of pain in his chest, Jack jabbed the back of Kozmotis' right knee with his left foot before rolling onto his upper back, placing his hands either side of his head, and kicking both feet into the air to yank him upright.

Groaning with the sharp pain in his knee, Kozmotis had barely stood up from being forced to his knee before Jack was in the air with a dropkick aimed at his chest, and with one of the most satisfying howls of pain was sent flying backwards by the impact, and hit the mat with a resounding thud. Sensing victory was near, and wincing with the angry throbbing in his ribs - and thanks to the less-than-graceful landing from the dropkick, the back of his head, too - Jack rolled onto his side and quickly yet clunkily scrambled to his feet, practically jumped astride his coughing, wounded comrade, and with teeth clenched in panting rage he grabbed a fistful of Kozmotis' T-shirt and drew his right fist back, intending to administer a knockout punch.

" _STOP!"_

The rushing of blood in his ears was so deafening that he nearly missed the worried cry to cease that came from the doorway, so focused was he on finishing Kozmotis off, but it came at just the right time. Looking up from his friend's bruised, bleeding face, his fiery gaze came to rest upon Anna, wide-eyed, mouth parted and breathing heavily, regarding him with a shocked, utterly dismayed expression.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you two?!" she shrieked, gesturing madly at Jack and his prey, "I came to see how you were doing, and I find you beating seven shades of hell out of each other! The hell's the matter with you two!?"

Panting, Jack let his fist unclench and fall to his side, and allowed his body to calm itself. Satisfied that Kozmotis wasn't going to retaliate, he let go of the fistful of T-shirt. Groaning with the pain that somehow had become sharper thanks to the adrenaline wearing off, he awkwardly rose to his feet and pushed off his knee, contemptuously stepping over the coughing form of his once-friend and comrade as he moved towards the door, grabbing the forgotten towel on the way - his lip was starting to sting rather angrily and required cold water, if not medical attention.

"Ask Koz, if you wanna know." he muttered just as he passed Anna, who stared incredulously back.

"It's okay...Anna…" Kozmotis coughed, forcing Jack to freeze in step just as he reached the door, "Overland and I were just...working things out, is all."

"I'm sorry, do I have ' _idiot'_ tattooed on my forehead?" Anna snapped, rounding on her mentor. As Kozmotis rose gingerly to his feet, he chuckled.

"No, no. You're not an idiot, just the person Jack hides behind when the going gets-"

Anna stepped forward and brandished a reprimanding finger. "Bitch, I will roast you six ways from Sunday if you don't shut up. Jack does _not_ hide behind me. He fights _beside_ me."

Jack felt the anger bubble up once more; Kozmotis was exceptional at getting under someone's skin, and he had to admit - in his case, it was easy.

"Like I said," Kozmotis gloated, "hiding behind your best friend. I shouldn't have expected any different, especially from a _traitor."_

And then he snapped - again. Ignoring the cries of Anna to stop, Jack turned on a dime and rushed towards Kozmotis, who bent slightly in preparation for another tackle.

Except it didn't come; after a quick hop, Jack proved to his team-mates once again why his agility and acrobatic still was unmatched with a decisive hands-free cartwheel, a version of _au sem mao_ that slammed both of his feet into Kozmotis' head, driving him unstoppably into the ground while Jack landed perfectly on both feet and his back to the fallen Ghost.

"Traitor _that._ " he hissed, and stalked past Anna to the open door into the bowels of the _Star,_ leaving his opponent dazed and beaten, hoping that would be the last time _anyone_ ever called him a traitor.

* * *

 

_Time: 21:50_

 

"Stupid Kozmotis." Jack snarled angrily to himself, his right hand resting protectively over the sensitive bruise under his tank top as he awkwardly stepped over the tenth knee-knocker away from the training room. "Stupid Valkyries. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid." he continued.

Intent on not showing weakness to either Anna or the the freshly floored Kozmotis, he had forced himself to walk straight, tall and as normal as he could, despite the aggravating pains in his chest, shoulders, back and legs...everywhere, really. The brawl was short yet brutal with neither side truly holding back, so combined with the punch bag practise, Jack felt worn out. He desperately wanted a shower and bed, to forget the brawl ever happened, and _hopefully_ talk things out with Kozmotis tomorrow...provided he still had a working jaw. Cartwheel kicks like his tended to put an obscene amount of momentum behind them, so it was lucky that Kozmotis managed to move his head in time, in such a way as to render it a glancing blow, otherwise Jack would have felt bone shatter under his feet.

However, out of earshot of the training room, where Anna was undoubtedly helping and simultaneously chewing Kozmotis out, he had allowed the aches and pains to explode around his body, and as he passed the eleventh knee knocker, halfway to the set of stairs that would take him one deck up, he came to a stop and leaned his left shoulder against the cream-coloured bulkhead to his left, closing his eyes as his head touched the cold, smooth metal. He was probably going to get chewed out for it by Kristoff at some point, if not by Anna. Ghosts are supposed to be unified, coordinated, fighting as one; not feral brawlers seeking violence against each other. In a way, he was remorseful that he had to kick Kozmotis' ass - he could have just ignored the jabs and walked away. For an abnormal that had powers over ice, he was awfully hot-headed.

As he inhaled a deep breath, a cold, tingling sensation blossomed somewhere under his ribs, flickering like a freshly-lighted flame. His lips quirked into a knowing half-smile; it was probably his powers acting up again. Ever since his rescue many years ago, he always felt like there was a strange block preventing his gift from reaching its full potential. That the occasional and spontaneous flaring up was just his frustrated powers pushing to grow and break through the invisible, metaphorical limit - as though despite being able to fly, summon gusts of wind strong enough to throw a man off his feet, and fire lightning-like blasts of ice from his staff, his gift was supposed to be stronger than it was.

His breath shuddered as the ice-like chill grew within his chest, reaching up to his heart and down to his stomach, and he winced with how it was increasing in strength. How the pulses that occurred every time it grew stalled his lungs the way stepping under a supremely cold shower does.

As the seconds went by, however, he noticed something weird, something that wasn't usually associated with whenever his gift was aroused - emotion. It was a chill that carried feelings, like anger, anticipation.

Bitterness.

Vengeful rage.

And then his eyes snapped open as he realised; he had felt this chill before. Every time _she_ was near...and it was driving him to move. To go _up._

"No…" he whispered in horror, "it can't be…"

Adrenaline surged through his veins once more, re-energising and reinvigorating his body as he launched into a full sprint, dulling the pain while he leaped over the knee-knockers, his breathing rapid and his pulse raging. Once he reached the steps, he ascended them three at a time, his boots echoing with metallic clatters every step. Various scenarios rushed through his head as he rose deck by deck, ignoring the stitch in his diaphragm that had appeared fifteen seconds beforehand; the _Star_ surrounded by by _Einherjar_ fighters. Flanked by small boats, or the deck swarming with Unity clone troopers. If he wasn't running on single-minded instinct and adrenaline and a blinkered desire to get to the flight deck, he would have contacted Kristoff over the radio and warned him.

Practically flying up the steps, he reached the floor of the integrated island, with only the heavy watertight door standing between him and the outside air. He took a moment while he fought for breath and tried to suppress the pain in his lungs, and looked inside himself - specifically at the chill which threatened to take over his entire being.

He wanted to be mistaken, prayed for it to simply be a case of his powers being on the fritz. Blinking, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, he plucked the small rod from his bracer and pushed the button to extend it, bringing back his thin, metal, six-foot-five-plus staff as he quickly walked to the watertight door. He didn't know what was on the other side of it, and though he wasn't thinking straight in terms of what he _should_ do, he knew that it was better to be prepared.

Lacing his right hand around the wheel, he winced and grunted with effort as he turned it to the left, listening to the creaking and scraping of the metal locks as they slid away from the frame, his heart thudding and his mind focused.

And after a deep, galvanizing breath, he yanked open the door and rushed out into the night.

Initially there was nothing but darkness, a starlit sky and a bitterly cold breeze to greet him; nothing but the sound of waves crashing against the stationary ship's hull caressing his ears as a welcome clue that _maybe_ he was panicking over nothing.

But then he heard the whoosh of a dropship flying overhead, circling the ship from stern to bow. His head shot up and followed it as it banked to the right, and under the moon's all-seeing and illuminating natural light that shone over the _Star's_ deck, bestowing it and the vast ocean around him with an unearthly glow, he could clearly see the inimitable winged sword insignia of the Valkyries adorning the dorsal hull of the dropship.

In that moment, his heart stopped, his breath caught, and he lost all hope in a happy ending - for as he watched the dropship open its exit ramp and descend to the deck, he caught sight of something _huge,_ something terrifying on the horizon, with four blue dots on either side of it and illuminated by the full moon's gaze.

The drop ship landed with a dull clunk a few hundred feet away, loud enough to attract his attention from the monstrosity clearly heading their way, and gripping his staff with enough tightness to cause his knuckles to whiten, he watched with dread as four figures emerged from the drop ship's belly and began to head his way. He felt a bubbling up of offended anger within his heart that fought with the bitter chill; how _dare_ they.

"Great," he muttered sarcastically as two of his right fingers moved to his earpiece, "four Valkyries versus little old me, alone."

"You're not alone, Jack." came a voice from behind him, and Jack whirled around to see its owner stood with his arms folded, his lips curled into an imperious and predatory sneer as he gazed unblinkingly at the new arrivals on the deck.

"Koz…" Jack's lips parted in surprise, "how did you…"

Kozmotis' golden eyes flicked down to him, and for a second Jack saw a knowing smile carve its way across the grey skinned man's face. "I'll tell you later; for now, you should probably call it in."

Blinking, Jack endured a few more seconds of being stunned at both the fact that Kozmotis was speaking to him _without_ insulting him, and seemingly had his back. Without a further word, the taller Ghost swept towards the integrated island's door, bringing Jack back to reality, and just as he pressed two fingers to his right ear, he heard the creaking of the watertight door being closed and locked.

"Frost to Harvester, please respond." he muttered quietly, eyeing the distant Snow Queen as she drew her sword from its sheath.

" _Harvester here. Streak told me what happened; what the hell were you-"_

Jack swiftly cut him off; his inevitable chewing out would have wait. "They're here." he said, his voice cracking.

" _Who's here?"_

Ordinarily Jack would have rolled his eyes and poked fun at Kristoff's badly timed slowness, but any humour had been tossed aside as soon as he saw the drop ship. "Remember when you said that it was only a matter of time?" he spoke slowly, quietly.

" _You don't mean…"_ Kristoff hissed, and even over the radio waves Jack could easily discern the fear blossoming in the Ghost leader's voice.

"Time's up."

* * *

  _COUNTDOWN TO THE PURGE (MONTHS/DAYS/HOURS/MINS/SECS):_ _ **00:00:00:00:00**_

* * *

 


	25. The Purge: Enemy at the Gates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains violence and descriptions of torture.

" **The Purge: Enemy at the Gates"**

His ears ringing, the only thing Jack could immediately feel, and was acutely aware of was pain. His hands, arms, legs...hell, nearly every part of his body was screaming bloody murder. Whether it was a stabbing, aching, dull or burning pain, or a combination thereof, he felt it.

Forcing his eyes open by instinct, he slowly but surely came back to reality, and involuntarily tried to push through the muggy haze of his mind to recall precisely why he suddenly found himself on his back, with the asphalt floor of the hangar deck biting into the back of his skull and his ears filled with a muddy, indiscernible sonic haze. The muffled sound of agonised screaming, panicked shouting, and little booms that mingled together. He tried to distinguish the voices, to work out what they were saying, but his disorientation made it impossible.

As he blinked over and over again his vision began to sharpen, the blurred waters of his sight receding to reveal a white ceiling with a pipework system directly above him, an amber glow somewhere to his right, and the occasional flash of blue mingling with the amber. It was the smell, though, that was the most acute and untouched by his mild concussion - the acrid scent of smoke, coupled with the stench of burning flesh.

Groaning, he struggled to roll onto his side and became distinctly aware of a stabbing pain in his chest, which somehow seemed to jumpstart his memory; the last thing he remembered was being ten feet behind Anna as they sprinted to the _Fairy_ , with the sounds of pulse fire behind them and the occasional blue bolt zipping past their heads. He had then heard Hiccup's panicked yell of something about the bow starboard door, and not a second later his vision had become white. An unstoppably powerful force had thrown him like a ragdoll into the air, leading to the complete disorientation he was enduring.

It was when his vision focused that he noticed something, a humanoid shape limping towards him, their gait weighing heavily on their left side. Dazed and sluggish, he felt a pair of hands wrap themselves around his upper arm and yank him to his feet, and came face to face with the panicked, blackened, wide-eyed face of Anna.

"Jack!" she yelled, or he thought she did as his ears were still ringing, " you okay?"

He had no idea how to answer that.

* * *

  _TWO HOURS EARLIER..._

" _Time's up"._

Kristoff closed his eyes and rested his head on the forearm he was using to lean on the corridor wall, and let loose a long, loud exhalation of breath through his nose. One that carried with it the knowledge that the day was finally here. He knew it would come at some point; hiding in the demilitarized zone would only keep them safe for so long, eventually Unity would find them. He wasn't naive enough to think otherwise, and every day since he joined the resistance and eventually became Ghost Leader, the ticking clock was always present in the back of his mind. Tick, tick, tick. Every day.

It didn't change the sinking feeling of realisation, even _loss,_ that accompanied his stomach hitting the floor. The _Guardian Star_ was home, she was their mother and caretaker, protector and lifegiver, and Unity was at her doorstep. Anxiety pricked at his mind, reminding him of the here and now and that he had a job to do, so with a sharp intake of breath he focused his mind and simplified the task ahead. The first step?

"Situation report" he quietly commanded, once his fingers were at his ear.

Jack's voice came back instantly. " _Four Valkyries on the flight deck, and a large, unidentified bogey approaching from the west. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes out."_

It struck Kristoff how calm the answer was. Then again, Jack always did operate well under pressure. "Copy. Do we have a chance at surviving this?"

There was a brief pause, then came the eventual reply. " _Negative."_

Kristoff thought as much. If Unity was here, it wouldn't be a piecemeal scouting party. It wouldn't be a small infiltration squad. They would come here in force, with overwhelming numbers and technological superiority. Unity don't do things by halves.

He straightened up from the metal corridor wall, but kept his left hand spread upon the cold surface. "I'm going to need time to get the evacuation going." he said grimly.

" _How much do you need?"_ was Jack's reply, though the cockiness in his voice was easily detectable.

"As much as you can give me." Kristoff answered.

" _Copy. Pitch and I will hold off the Valkyries as long as we can, but we could use some help."_ Jack said.

"You hear that, Streak?" Kristoff called out over the radio. It was surprising Anna hadn't said anything yet, but it was likely she was reeling as much as he was from the news of Unity's arrival. Admittedly he felt the familiar concern for Anna's safety as he had done every mission prior to that moment, but after their conversation in _Sanctuary_ , he was loathed to keep her away from combat.

" _Oh, I so copy. On my way to you, Frost, just make sure you and Pitch leave some for me!"_ she sang excitedly.

" _What about me, what can I do?"_ Hiccup called over the radio, sounding ready and anxious to help.

"Take to the air; I want you to be my eyes and ears. First objective is recon; scout out the incoming craft. I want to know what we're up against." Kristoff commanded. Hiccup answered his acknowledgement shortly after. "This is for all of you," he declared, "we know what's at stake. Stay frosty, watch your six, and remember: you get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed…"

The four-voice chorus was instant and unanimous. " _Walk it off!"_

Pride made itself known in among the pessimistic acceptance, and as he strode down the corridor towards a ship-wide announcement radio several yards ahead and a large red button to its immediate right, he hoped that the skills his team possessed, skills which he was proud of, would see them through what was to come. His heart was calm, his mind clear, and without a second's hesitation he lightly pressed the red button, turning the entire ship into an angry shade of red while a deep, loud alarm filled the air.

And then came the hard part. Pressing the alarm was easy; making the ship's inhabitants aware of precisely _why_ he had sounded battle stations was not. Exhaling another deep breath through his nose, he reached out and delicately unhooked the hand-held radio mic from its housing, and readied himself to drop the bombshell.

"All hands, this is Harvester. We are at battle stations, this is _not_ a drill. I repeat; this is _not_ a drill. Those of you who have been assigned places on the _Artemis, Hera, Athena, Aphrodite_ and _Apollo,_ take what you need from your quarters and report to the hangar bay. Designated pilots report to your individual dropships and standby. The rest of you, head to the armory where Flynn will hand out rifles and power cells, after which you will report to Deck One and assume defensive positions, just like we practiced."

He closed his eyes and harshly nibbled at his lower lip, hating himself for the words he was about to say, but nevertheless mustered as calm a voice as possible, and said:

"I'm sorry to say this, but the moment we all dreaded has arrived: the enemy is at our gates. I am initiating _Code Exodus."_

* * *

 

Jack could swear that the wind was sentient, that it had its own emotions and personality. He was also convinced that the wind was feminine, because every step he and Kozmotis took as they ambled towards the advancing Valkyries, he could hear the roar of the wind behind him, felt it slow to a breeze as it passed so it could caress his exposed arms and face like a gentle lover, then rush off towards his enemy.

Of course Hiro and Hiccup would dismiss such a notion as scientifically impossible, and it was more than likely that the wind was reflecting his state of being, but it was nonetheless comforting to think that a literal force of nature cared for him and had his back. After all, he had the sneaking suspicion he was going to need all the help he could get.

"Four Valkyries against the two of us," he observed nonchalantly as he rolled his right shoulder, "not very good odds."

"Since when have we ever cared about the odds?" Kozmotis pointed out, and the sound of shifting sand that accompanied his reply told Jack that the taller Ghost's fist-blades were forming over his knuckles, and his sand-tendrils were growing from his spine.

"Alright, point taken," Jack chortled, "by the way, dibs on Snow Queen and Viking."

Kozmotis instantly stopped. Curious as to why, Jack looked over his shoulder, and was amused to see the disappointment etched upon his ally's face. "You're seriously leaving me with the two runts?"

"Well, after the smackdown I gave you, I thought I'd let you take it easy. Apology accepted, by the way." Jack taunted, his eyes sparkling playfully as he smirked at his now triggered friend. Scowling, Kozmotis pointed a fist-blade at his nose in a threatening display, and his golden eyes flashed with ill-concealed pique.

"Just because I don't believe you're a traitor anymore, Jack, doesn't mean I'm not still pissed at you." he growled. Shrugging, Jack continued in no particular hurry towards the visitors; that was about as close to an apology as he was going to get.

"Duly noted."

"Good," was Kozmotis' clipped response as he followed, "so what do I need to know about Dorkeye?"

Jack's response was immediate and matter-of-fact. "Merida missing you in the depot was a fluke; if you let her get distance on you, you're dead. Stay up close and personal. Your turn."

Kozmotis' head jerked right, and an audible click of his neck vertebrae could be heard. "Viking's strong, but her swings are slow, so she telegraphs her moves. If she hits you though, you're going to know about it, and it'll leave you wide open. Game over, in other words."

"Got it." Jack announced, and applied a little offensive flourish to the Valkyries, who were merely thirty feet away, by vertically spinning the staff around his body. "Let's not keep the ladies waiting. Oh, and by the way, I'm gonna take a _leap of faith_ and say that we're going to win this."

The chuckle he heard emanate from Kozmotis' throat was all Jack needed to know the message was received.

* * *

 

Apparently, some people were incapable of learning etiquette.

Standard Unity military practice for entering a room - especially when a superior officer is inside said room - is to do one of two things: use the intercom to announce your presence and request entry, or knock if an intercom isn't available. Captain Bludvist ignored both, so in Hans' opinion, he should have known better. Even if the _Hammer_ was his ship.

Distracted from his rather important Staging Ground reports, which basically consisted of training regimes and which squads completed them, accidents and weapon requisitions, Hans sighed in exasperation when the briefing room doors opened with a _shht,_ and without even looking up from his data tablet, he could easily make out the huge bulk of the _Hammer's_ captain pass through the doorway via his peripheral vision. If he was truly honest, Hans was silently surprised that Drago didn't get himself stuck.

"What is it, Captain?" he sighed, attempting to hide the disdain in his voice. Having been raised in a military family Hans took a dim view of breaches of military etiquette, so the more time he spent around Drago reinforced the conclusion that the dreadlocked man was born and raised in a cave.

It would explain his hair.

"Thought you'd want to know your team reported in; they just landed on the deck and they're about to engage two Ghosts." Drago spoke in his customary guttural rumble, the indifference evident. Hans looked up, and immediately rolled his eyes.

"There goes the element of surprise." he groaned with dry pessimism, and relaxed back into the chair. Encountering two Ghosts so early in the infiltration meant that the alarm would surely be raised, so the goal of a swift battle was now out of the window.

Drago simply shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Hans' eyes narrowed slightly, and he pondered the question. There was nowhere for the abnormals to go, and the _Hammer_ carried enough troops, hardware and firepower to wage a small war. Add to that some two hundred and fifty weaponised drones?

"No," he conceded lightly, "I suppose not."

Drago's mouth curled up the left side in half a smirk as he folded his tree-thick arms, causing the sleeves of his dark grey officer's uniform to stretch to their limit. "Thought not. Also, we'll be alongside the abnormals' vessel in twenty minutes." he continued with the updates. Nodding, Hans leaned forward and slid the data tablet onto the long table, before returning to his relaxed position and lacing his fingers together.

"Good. What about our weapons?" he asked. Even if the _Hammer_ was a cutting edge technological marvel, the fact that she had been unarmed for the duration of her cruise thus far was a source of mild consternation for the commander. What was the point of a warship if she couldn't fight a war?

Drago grunted disdainfully, which Hans took as not a good sign. "Like I said, Hoffertech is a pain. Engineers say they should have the deck-mounted medium cannons ready within the hour, but the heavy cannons are still giving them problems."

Hans' jaw clenched and relaxed - he shouldn't be surprised. This, after all, was exactly what a shakedown cruise was supposed to reveal. To expect a flawless run with a perfectly functioning ship was absurd at best, and naive at worst. Still, that many bugs made him wonder if the engineers that built the damn thing should be disciplined for their incompetence.

"Fine, thank you. Dismissed." he responded in a clipped manner, and shuffled forward to indulge himself in the fascinating world of injury reports at the Staging Ground's shooting range. Apparently a clone took an Omega level bolt to the head, and had been paralyzed since before the _Hammer_ took off. Except the human-sized square in his upper vision told him that Drago hadn't quite got the message.

"Is there something else, Captain?" he asked politely, yet unable to conceal the flash of impatience in his eyes. Drago cocked his head to the side.

"Been wondering; how _did_ you come by the location of the _Star?_ " the captain queried in a curious growl. Hans uttered a single chuckle, and abandoned the task of reading the report. Oddly, he wasn't annoyed about it anymore.

"Are you familiar with Inquisition techniques for gaining information?" Hans asked, and upon receiving Drago's reply in the form of a shaken head, he continued, "They have five levels of torture, and what level the prisoner starts at relates to how important they are, or how resistant they have been to the previous levels. Level Five is the maximum, and none have survived it with either their body or mind intact. That's a result of what the Inquisitors use: nanobots. The prisoner is injected with these nanometre sized robots that navigate their way to the body's entire nervous system, and attach themselves to it. When activated, they cause agonizing pain, and in specific locations if desired."

Removing his gloves, Hans tossed them on top of the data tablet before he continued further. "Jafar's favourite method is to use a specially designed glove, and he will hover it over a part of the body; in response, the nanobots will antagonise the nerves and extreme pain will follow. Being the sadist that he is, Jafar usually hovers the glove over the prisoner's head."

Hans sighed and looked off to Drago's side in recollection, trying to remember the details he had gleaned over the years, plus a conversation he had with Jafar not long after he received the wrist-com call from the Inquisitor. "Imagine the worst toothache you have ever experienced, double it, then spread it over your entire head. That is how it has been described, and that is what the member of Scout Team Red known as Sneak experienced. For five days, Sneak endured sleep deprivation, and two hours of regular nanobot sessions with one hour breaks in between - but Jafar never asked any questions, not one."

Hans inhaled deeply through the nose, and spoke as he exhaled, "Not until the sixth day, when all it took was for Sneak to crack was simply to watch Jafar put on the glove. Jafar asked where the abnormal hideout was, Sneak answered, Jafar executed him on the spot, and told anyone who asked that he had gone insane. After that, he contacted me."

"And then you contacted me," Drago added. Frowning in curiosity, he then asked, "Does it not bother you, how the intel was gathered?"

Hans' green eyes flicked back to the burly captain, and gave him a look as though he'd just asked him a silly question. "No. Why would it?"

Drago uttered quite possibly one of the most knowing and sly chuckles Hans had ever heard, and continuing the theme of rudeness, turned away from him and started toward the door.

"Captain?" Hans called to get his attention. Drago paused just as the doors opened, but didn't turn his head to acknowledge him fully. Satisfied that the mountain was listening, Hans coldly said, "Mobilise the clone soldiers for deployment in fifteen minutes, and inform your engineers that it is in their _best interest_ to expedite their work."

* * *

 

Jack's heart began to punch in his chest as he continued his journey, and he was supremely grateful for the adrenaline that coursed through his body with every beat, and the pain-numbing quality it possessed. He was going to need it, that much was fact, and though he didn't regret the brawl with Kozmotis, the joints that ached and the bruises swelling up suggested that it might not have been the best time. But...he didn't know they'd be entertaining guests, did he?

The four Valkyries advanced spread out just over a metre apart, seemingly confident in their numbers and skills insofar as to unconsciously match the two men's casual walk. Their trench coats and hoods whipped violently in the wind, and with the moonlight at their backs they cast an intimidating scene - especially with their impassive yet menacing masks all facing the two men. The one known as Astrid pulled her axe from its resting place on her back, and whirled it around her body.

"You didn't have to come and meet me, Frost," Snow Queen yelled out, her voice distorted by what Jack assumed to be the mask, "I would have killed you soon enough!"

Jack roared with laughter, a little more exaggerated than his usual mirth, something that attracted a mildly perturbed glance from both his ally and the group of women. "Still salty about the apartment, huh?" he yelled back, "you want me, you're gonna have to work that hot little body of yours. Speaking of hot bodies…!" he turned, fixed Astrid with a cocky smirk and a taunting look, and pointed his staff at her.

"My bed is one deck down, want to go again?" he winked. Astrid's entire poise seemed to tense and hunch, and she pointed the axe at his face.

"You shut up, Frost!" she shouted angrily. Jack downturned his lips and furrowed his brow, pouting like a child who was just told they couldn't have a cookie. Kozmotis promptly slowed down and disappeared from his peripheral vision, ostensibly to hang back a few feet. With the knowledge that he was about to become a human springboard, Jack let loose his final taunt.

"Awww, and there was me thinking I was so good, you came back for round two!" he challenged.

"Viking, _no!"_

The axe-wielding Valkyrie ignored her superior's cry of warning and, with a roar of piqued aggression, charged towards him while he drew her axe back for a diagonal swing. Jack smirked victoriously as he readjusted his grip on his staff, and then he too launched himself towards her, pushing all his weight off his left foot and feeling the wind at his back for a little more speed. By that point he knew that Kozmotis would be right behind him too. His heart thudding in his chest, the cautioning words of his ally echoed in his mind, reminding him how dangerous Astrid was, especially when the image floated into his mind of Kozmotis' chest post-Depot battle and how it sported cuts from when he was a little too slow to dodge.

Astrid's sprint skidded to a stop as she began to swing the axe down, ostensibly for more momentum so she could cut him in half, but he was ready - with the wind pushing him, Jack leapt into the air and cartwheeled over Astrid's head. He lashed his hand out, grasped the hem of her hood and yanked her backwards to the ground, finishing in a graceful three-point crouched landing while she impacted the asphalt with a thud and a cry of pain. Seconds later, as though it had been rehearsed day-in-day-out for the past year, a heavy pressure constricted his chest as he felt Kozmotis' boot briefly land on and then leave his back, using him as a springboard to launch himself - with the aid of the wind - at his opponents, and before Merida had time to draw her arrow back, she was already dodging fist-blade swipes aimed for her neck, while Rapunzel was fending off sand-tendril jabs.

Jack then launched himself at Snow Queen as his right hand gripped his staff, and a glint of steel caught his eye as she swung her sword in a horizontal arc, aimed at his neck. Ducking it as he passed, Jack whirled around to face her, slid his right hand to the bottom of his staff and brought it down to slam into her head, something she fluidly blocked above her face as though it was merely a part of her initial swing.

What followed was a battle of strength, and so focused were they that the sound of Toothless shrieking as he flew overhead was summarily ignored; Jack's arms tensed as he forced the staff downwards, while Snow Queen just about held it at bay with all her might. Her arms began to tremble, and as he heard the feminine grunt of effort under the mask - "Hoods. Very impractical. Fashion disaster. Didn't get the memo?" he quipped. Leave it to Jack to annoy people.

With a cry she forced the staff back and then kicked into Jack's chest, something he blocked with his staff but nevertheless forced him to stagger backwards. "Don't you ever shut up?" she snarled, and metallic clangs filled the air as she applied three strikes in quick succession; a swing at his neck, then his left thigh, and a stab at his abdomen. Jack parried each one effortlessly and held the sword at bay with the middle of his staff, taking great pleasure in her sounds of frustration. "Only two ways; when I'm asleep, and ask Astrid about the other way-" he cheekily teased, and after catching a glance of a rather irate incoming Valkyrie "-oop, speak of the devil!"

He spun away a second before an axe swung down with enough force to potentially embed it into the ground, and was subsequently treated to an example of Valkyrie coordination; Snow Queen rolled over Astrid's back and harnessed her momentum into a lunge, one that Jack narrowly avoided. With only a sleeveless tank top, he wasn't exactly well protected - even a glancing strike would hurt like hell.

There wasn't enough time to dwell on it; seconds after dodging the lunge by bending his body away, a decapitating axe swing forced both him and Snow Queen to quickly crouch lest they eat steel. Recovering from the swing quicker than he anticipated, Astrid then spun and jabbed Jack with the butt of the axe, something he was unprepared for as Snow Queen misdirected his attention by pretending to lunge again. Thus, Kozmotis' warning was illustrated; Astrid seemed to have strength above what he was used to, and it was a wonder that considering the earlier brawl, his ribs didn't shatter under the impact. Pain blossomed through his chest, temporarily knocking the wind out of him as he staggered back, and he retained just enough situational awareness to sluggishly block and then parry a horizontal left swing from Snow Queen aimed at his neck.

It was then that the cocky confidence left him and realism took its place; two against one were not good odds, especially since in his bravado he chose the two most adept close combat Valkyries to fight - conversely, Kozmotis was probably putting little effort in, he noted. So far he was doing fairly well, but any military tactician will tell you that numbers meant a lot, unless the battle was in the defender's favour. A completely flat flight deck? Not exactly tactically helpful, and it was dawning on him that they were going to kill him sooner or later.

He knew he had to even the odds.

Astrid swung her axe in a horizontal right arc. Jumping back to narrowly dodge it, and ignoring the creeping of the aches in his joints and the pains in the rest of his body, both old and new as the adrenaline lost its potency, he gripped the staff with both hands and slammed the end down onto the asphalt deck. A shockwave burst from the impact consisting of little more a sharp burst of wind, but it was enough to take the Snow Queen and Astrid completely by surprise. Snow Queen fell backwards and landed on the ground with a rather satisfying cry of pain, and being the slightly more physically formidable of the two, Astrid merely stumbled back a couple of steps - but it was enough. Jack held the staff straight and level, and once he felt the surge of his gift course through him, he lunged his staff at Astrid's chest.

The wind responded instantly, and in a move Kozmotis once remarked felt like ' _being punched by the wind'_ , Astrid was knocked flying backwards a few feet. However it didn't end there, Jack followed up by shooting a blast of ice at the point where she fell. He then launched himself into the air and, as he flew, the bursts of ice continued to emanate from the staff's tip so, yelling in surprise and alarm with her limbs helplessly slamming the axe into the icy ground in a vain effort to slow herself down, Astrid uncontrollably slid in the direction he wanted her to go.

Which, as it happened, was towards the starboard edge.

"Everybody say ' _bye Astrid!'"_ he called in a sing-song voice while he flew, almost as though he was talking to the kids under his care. Amusingly, Kozmotis responded with " _bye, Astrid…"_ in a bored voice just before the unfortunate, screaming Valkyrie went over the edge and into the sea below.

Jack peeled off and circled the battle, flying low. A quick observation of Kozmotis' skirmish indicated that he was in no real trouble; Merida's bow was cast ten feet away as she defended herself against his relentless strikes with her own sword, and Rapunzel was having difficulty getting past the sand-tendrils - Jack once remarked that it was _like "fighting a guy with four arms"_.

Which left Snow Queen. Shocked, and yelling her team-mate's name, Jack saw her launch into a sprint towards the edge of the recently airborne Astrid. Scowling, Jack felt the rise of a new emotion, one that had been forgotten in the heat of battle - protective rage. Snow Queen coming after _him_ was one thing, but her very presence on the _Guardian Star_ was something else. A threat; not just to him but his _family._

So, one down.

One to go.

Flattening his body, he circled around at an impressive speed to put himself between Snow Queen and the starboard edge, and shot down to land in a graceful crouch - kneeling down with his fist to the ground a good few yards away. Snow Queen skidded to a halt in surprise, before quickly adopting a defensive stance with her right foot a ways back from the left, and her sword drawn up in front.

"I'll kill you!" she shrieked, and admittedly he found the sound vaguely unnerving thanks to the mask's voice modulation.

Straightening up, Jack's eyes never left her as he strode towards her, his face contorted with a cold fury. Nothing mattered now, except her. Not the screaming ache of fatigue from nearly every muscle in his body, nor the throbbing pains in his lower lip, chest and spine. "Threaten me all you want, princess," he shouted back. Drawing his staff up to point it at her head and ignoring how his arm felt like a lead weight attached to pain, he yelled further, "You're next!"

Snow Queen advanced upon him, launching herself into a sprint that sent the tails of her trenchcoat into a frenzy, and even though her face - therefore, her expression - was concealed by the mask, Jack could easily tell by how she put everything into her strides that she was _pissed_. Which meant mistakes.

Snow Queen leapt into the air and drew her sword above her head, probably thinking only of embedding it into his skull and not how it left her wide open to a counterattack. With the staff held up in front of his head, Jack blocked the downward slash and angled his staff to the left, letting her momentum carry her sword to the ground and leave her off-balance, prime for a right shoulder-check that sent her stumbling away with a hiss of pain. Taking the opportunity, Jack slid his left hand down the staff and brought it down with all his might upon her head, praying for at least a stunning blow.

It never came. Snow Queen reacted faster than he anticipated, and deflected the strike by putting all her might into a two-handed parry. He heard a feminine grunt a split second before the piercing clang of metal upon metal, and a flash of horror tightened his chest when he realised that she countered the same way he did. His staff impacted harmlessly on the ground, but with enough force that violent vibrations shot through his arms, intensifying the pain already sitting pretty in his muscles, but throwing in a surge of paradoxical numbness.

What _wasn't_ numb was Snow Queen's follow-up strike; her deflection had finished with her in the position to Jack's left, so to punish his error in judgement her fist clashed with his jaw in a vicious backhand right swing - as if it wasn't hurting before, it was screaming thanks to that. The coppery taste of blood filled Jack's mouth as a result of his cheek having an impromptu liaison with his teeth, and with a surprised cry of pain he staggered back, the staff nearly slipping from his hand. Snow Queen didn't stop there - before he could react, she lifted her right leg and applied her boot to his chest, knocking him down to the ground.

It was a miracle that the kick had not broken his ribs considering it connected with the same spot that both Kozmotis and Astrid had hit, or maybe it did and he wasn't feeling the full extent of the pain throbbing in his chest, but it hurt like hell enough to partially wind him and cause a sensation of tightening around his lungs that made it incredibly difficult to breathe, and as he lay crumpled on the deck nursing new bruises and scrapes, every inhalation was a sharp gasp of air that almost burned his lungs. He had to push through it, though. He had to. There was no other option; if Snow Queen killed him, then Kozmotis would be next, and even he couldn't hold off three. Kristoff...Neve...they were counting on him.

Clutching his chest protectively with his right hand, he winced and sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as he pushed himself up to his knees with his staff dug into the ground - and that was when he saw the sparkle of moonlight on a blade. Snow Queen drew her sword over her head, tip down, with the intent of driving it between his eyes...and with a cry, her blade came down.

Instinct took over in that second. Without thinking and with speed born of self-preservation, Jack blindly swung his staff as hard as he could to the left, practically putting his entire upper body behind it, and the metal rod not only connected with and deflected the blade, but the anguished shriek that followed meant that the staff had also clashed with the side of her head. Snow Queen staggered to her right, her hand protectively covering the site where the staff met her mask.

Grinning, and despite the fact that the iron weight of fatigue was slowing his movements and strikes, Jack felt a surge of adrenaline course through his body at the surprise reversal of fortunes and the golden opportunity of a counter-attack, especially as Snow Queen was evidently rather dazed as the staff had impacted her left ear.

Clambering to his feet, he pushed through the throbbing patch of pain settling on his chest and gripped the staff tightly in both hands, and just as Snow Queen was starting to recover, he whirled the staff as though he was chopping wood, and diagonally brought it down. There was an ear-piercing clang, and sparks shot out from where blade met staff, but the force of the swing knocked her arm away. Jack swung again from the opposite side. Diagonal-right. Diagonal-left. Right. Left. His swings were met each time with her sword, but it seemed to take all of her effort to block his staff, and each time her arm was knocked away with a yelp. With every swing he stepped forward, and she fell back.

He swung once more, and brought the staff down _hard;_ Snow Queen hissed in pain as the sword was knocked from her grasp and clattered away. Where? He didn't care. Snow Queen was defenseless; capitalising on the opportunity, he leapt up and jabbed the staff into her chest armour, forcing her to yell out a curse as she stumbled backwards, and before she could recover he ducked low and hooked the staff behind her left foot as it left the ground.

Snow Queen fell down with a thud, uttering a groan of pain as her back sharply impacted the ground. This was it, this was the moment. She had her quest of vengeance, one that nearly got him killed in the depot...but so did he. Scout Team Red. Belle. Shrek. All the teams that were laid low at the Valkyries' feet. All of them probably dead.

If anyone had a cause for retribution... _he_ did.

And he had the chance to end it, right there. With Astrid undoubtedly stuck in the sea, all he needed to do was end Snow Queen and then the head of the most feared Unity strike squad would be cut off. Sixth Rule be damned; she was there to kill him. That definitely counted as ' _under imminent threat of death'._

Sliding his hands down to the end of his staff, he circled around her to her left. Momentarily stunned by her less than graceful drop to the ground, Snow Queen groaned and tried to roll onto her arm, something that Jack put a stop to by pushing the end of his staff into her shoulder. It was then that their eyes locked - though he could not see her face through the mask, he remembered what she looked like, and a part of him was not ashamed to say he hoped she was scared.

He stepped back, oblivious to the sound of combat between his ally and the two Valkyries, and the sound of running to his right. Lifting his staff above his head, he aimed for the weakest point - her neck. Even a staff can kill, if the right amount of force is applied to the right area. Committed to the strike, he started to bring the staff down as hard as he could muster.

And as easily as he won the advantage, he lost it, because he _forgot to watch his six._

The wind was knocked out of him as something hard rushed into the right side of his body, yanking his world sideways. Sent flying several feet by the impact, he gracelessly rolled a further two feet before coming to a rather painful, grazing stop while his staff clattered uselessly away, somewhere to his left. His vision briefly spinning, he tried to make out precisely _what_ had hit him like a hover train - and the glint of an axe held in a right hand was all he needed to see.

Astrid. He should have confirmed that she had indeed fallen into the ocean, but in his zeal to get to Snow Queen, he just assumed. Kristoff once said ' _always confirm your kills'_ , and his failure to do so meant that he probably ate a full-speed shoulder-check. Like the one he did earlier, but twice as hard.

The taller Valkyrie strode towards him, ignoring her superior officer's need for assistance, and as much as Jack would have liked to scramble to his feet and find his staff, the sheer force of Astrid's appearance had jarred him harshly. His arms and legs felt sluggish and heavy, his head was no longer focused but foggy and fuzzy having connected with the ground a few times, and try as he might he couldn't move any faster than a languid crawl. He had to face it; the situation was pretty dire.

As Astrid reached him, he felt a pair of hands grasp his right arm and yank him to his feet, only for her to growl "On your knees, Frost," and force him back down sharply enough for a shock of pain to burst through his legs.

He felt her hand roughly grip the back of his neck whilst the blade of her axe kissed around where the carotid artery resided, and as the adrenaline began to ebb and fade to leave only pain, and as his heartbeat began to slow, he slowly came to terms with the inevitable. Without his staff, he was powerless. With Astrid's axe at his neck, if he tried to move she would slice his throat.

No way out, except one...but he wasn't afraid to die.

He watched Snow Queen bend to retrieve her sword as resignation weighed heavy on his heart, and tried to ignore Kozmotis' panicked yells of his name. Staring her straight in the eyes, his expression defiant, he waited as she walked purposefully towards him, her blade flashing in the moon's glow.

"I told you he'd make a mockery of you, Viking." Snow Queen chastised her comrade, who merely responded with a disgruntled scoff.

"Whatever. You'd be dead if it wasn't for me." she retaliated.

Sensing an opportunity, Jack said in a low voice, "Why aren't you the leader, again?"

"You shut up," Astrid hissed. The hand that gripped his neck instead entwined itself in his hair, and yanked his head to the right with so much force it hurt.

Jack pouted, and whined - the advantage was about to come right back his way. "That's not fair...I mean, isn't this the part where I get some famous last words, or something?"

Snow Queen scoffed, and drew her sword over her right shoulder, ready to embed the blade in his neck and spray his blood all over the deck. "Go for it."

"Okay, I only need four-" he shrugged, and then smirking as an amber glow began to grow along Snow Queen's entire left side, he added, "-you might wanna duck."

And duck he did, a second before a torso-sized fireball rammed into Snow Queen's left side and sent her flying sideways, rolling painfully as she hit the deck. Yelling her name, Astrid's presence immediately left him as she rushed to her fallen comrade, leaving an otherwise unharmed Jack to glance appreciatively at the new combatant. Still with her arms extended in post-fireball pose, and still wearing her Ghost uniform with her strawberry blonde hair in a tight bun, Anna glared pure fury at the two Valkyries as she yelled "Get away from him, you _bitch!"_

Laughing tiredly but mirthfully, Jack held out a hand. "Awesome timing as always, Streak." he quipped, as despite her eyes remaining fixed upon Snow Queen as Astrid valiantly attempted to pat out the happily burning fire on her trench coat, Anna strode over to grip the offered hand and pull him to his feet.

"Yeah, well," she said, "I told you to leave some for me."

Chuckling, Jack walked over to his forgotten staff and stamped on one end, forcing the other to whip up into his waiting hand. "Fair point." he conceded, eyeing Snow Queen as she stamped out the last of the flames, turned to re-join the fray, and staggered back as though she had seen a ghost, "So, which one do you want?" he said with an almost playful tone as he rested the staff over his shoulder and hooked both hands over it, as though choosing which synth-ohol beer to buy.

"Snow Queen is _mine."_ Anna hissed. Half-smiling proudly, Jack watched as she reached behind to the sheaths on her belt and drew out her knives. "Nobody hurts my best friend and lives," she paused to ignite the twin blades and hold them before her, both horizontal but one upturned and the other held downwards, " _Nobody_."

* * *

 

Whoever this person was, they were going to pay dearly for intervening. She was so close, so impossibly _close_ to achieving her goal, and some _hero_ had to butt in and steal her moment.

Hans had warned that the Ghosts would be fighting tooth-and-nail for survival, but this was something else

Crying out in surprise and frustration, and _acutely_ aware of the rapidly rising heat on her back and left side, Elsa scrambled to her feet and quickly shook off her trench coat, choosing to stamp out the flames with as much ferocity as when she fought Frost. Vexingly, the fire attacking her coat seemed to have as many lives as _he_ did, as no matter how much she stamped, they refused to die. It took Astrid's arrival and _her_ boots to make any progress saving her coat - no doubt she would be filling in a requisition form when they returned to land. No further doubt that she would be getting an earful from the quartermaster; leather wasn't exactly easy to come by.

Eventually the flames died under their assault - they probably looked like idiots anyway, Elsa noted with self-conscious chagrin - and while it was still smoking, Elsa turned to face off against the _new_ opponent, the one that dared to interfere.

And that was the moment her world turned upside down.

It was when she saw her, saw the strawberry blonde locks, the sapphire blue eyes, and the once-bright and cheerful face that now wore an expression of hostile fury, that she felt a gut-punch almost three...no... _six_ years in the making. Six years, and she was standing right in front of her.

Anna.

Her sister.

Her fucking _sister_. The one she had been heartbreakingly separated from, the one she had to ignore day-in-day-out, whom she thought had disappeared forever the night that their parents were killed by Frost, the very man that her sister was standing in front of.

She stumbled backwards in surprise, her face drained of colour. Her legs which were already experiencing fatigue weakened even further, so much so that she thought she might collapse. How was it possible - was this some kind of sick joke? Was there some deity playing pranks on her, making her think that she would never see Anna again, only for her to be on the _Guardian Star…_

...wearing their uniform…

...a Ghost. Her sister had sided with the enemy.

Chaos ruled in her mind. A complete upheaval of everything she thought she knew. This couldn't be right - she must have been turned. Yes, that would be it. Anna would never knowingly side with the men that killed her mother and father. Never. They must have convinced her to join them, the first human in the abnormal resistance, and kept their murderous secret away from her…

...but there was a voice in the back of her mind, one that had been present ever since the museum visit, and had been slowly gaining strength with each passing day, a voice that reminded her that Anna wasn't that stupid.

But oh, how she had changed. Looking at her was like looking at the passage of time as a reminder of how much she had lost - where once was a slender but moderately curvy fifteen year old who was exuberant, clumsy and energetic, now stood a toned, athletically muscular, sweat-covered warrior glaring pure fire at her, strawberry blonde hair no longer in adorable twin braids but a respectable braided bun...and as if that wasn't as harsh enough a revelation, Elsa realised that the surprise fireball came from _her._ It couldn't be.

Not only was Anna a Ghost...she was an _abnormal._

To say that Elsa never, not in a million years expected to see her sister in such strange circumstances was the understatement of the century.

Movement to Anna's right caught Elsa's eye, and she noticed how Jack, despite having taken a _lot_ of punishment was still standing - adrenaline and the comforting timing of Anna's arrival must have had something to do with that - and had stamped down on his staff to flick it into his waiting hands. Anna, however, hadn't taken her eyes off of her, and as though the realisation that she was an abnormal wasn't illustrating enough via the fireball, Anna produced a pair of glimmering, eight-inch long silver knives from behind her, held them forward in a classic dual-wielding stance...and _ignited them._

"Anna…" she blurted weakly, in a voice so quiet only Astrid heard over the mask's comlink.

"Say what?" her second-in-command asked.

Elsa swallowed thickly, her mouth as dry as a desert, and whispered in a cracking voice, "That's...that's my sister…"

Astrid audibly gaped, and through the corner of her mask's vision, Elsa could see her second's head whipping between her and her sister. "Holy shit…"

Frost's voice cut through the air, alerting both Valkyries to the here and now. "So which one do you want?" Elsa heard him ask Anna - and as if things couldn't get worse…they did.

"Snow Queen is _mine_." she heard her younger sister snarl, feeling her heart and stomach clench on their way to the ground. "Nobody hurts my best friend and lives. _Nobody."_

_...best...friend?_

Astrid took a step back, muttering a quiet ' _ah, crap…'_ as she ostensibly realised she would be taking on Frost, but it was little comfort - Elsa knew it meant she would be fighting her sister. How fucked up was that. She didn't want to hurt Anna...but she didn't want to die, either. At least...not without being able to talk to her.

It seemed talking was the last thing on Anna's mind - before Elsa could react, Anna charged towards her, knives aflame and waving back and forth with each stride, the inferno of anger exuding from her eyes. Elsa barely raised her sword in time to deflect the first left swing of the upturned blade in her right hand, and weaved to her left to dodge the downward stab that Anna fluidly chained, utilising the first swing's momentum to put her in a whirl. She struck four more times; first was a blind left slash at Elsa's neck that directly followed the previous downward stab. Elsa gasped as she sharply leaned back, narrowly avoiding the knife's tip, and jumped back to avoid the left-handed stab that directly followed it. The third was a diagonal swipe aimed at her left shoulder, which she dodged by parrying Anna's arm with her right forearm, and then pulled her entire abdomen back to just about miss the downturned knife as Anna swung it to stab behind her. Each swing carried with it the _fwum_ sound of the angry flames being rapidly moved through the air, and though Elsa was successfully able to dodge each strike, she came to the stark conclusion between parrying two more strikes that Anna was _good_. Not Frost-in-his-prime level, but the way she was able to chain her attacks together so fluidly that it looked like one long assault, coupled with the almost surgical aim of her attacks - she was pretty sure her carotid artery had said ' _eek!'_ and retreated further into the neck for safety - led her to believe that whoever trained her younger sister had trained her well.

Too well. Elsa was struck with the dawning realisation that, even if she was holding back and defensively fighting - no strikes, only blocks, dodges and parries - eventually Anna's relentless assault would win out. The battle with Frost had taken a lot out of her in terms of energy and pain tolerance, and he wasn't even at full strength judging by the split lip and the gloriously black bruise on Pitch Black's cheek, so with Anna seemingly rested, focused and full of energy, Elsa knew it was only a matter of time before she lost. Her younger sister was a whirling dervish of blades and pain.

"Anna…!" she managed in between blocking a stab aimed at her head. It was actually quite beautiful; Anna tossed the upturned knife into the air, caught it blade down and then struck for her ear. Elsa only just blocked it in time before becoming spontaneously deaf in her right ear. "Please…" she winced while leaning back to avoid a horizontal slash, "...stop!"

Her pleas for her once-sweet-now-terrifying Anna went unheeded; rather, they only intensified the young woman's scowling. "I don't know who you are," she hissed, which felt like one of her knives stabbed at Elsa's heart, "or how you know my name," she continued, stabbing both weapons downward. Elsa managed to block the attack by holding the flat of her sword against Anna's forearms. Sounds of effort were grunted from both women's throats; Elsa's arms trembled against her sister's pressure, and her strength was beginning to wane. Not only that...she was wide open.

Taking advantage, Anna pulled her arms back only to kick Elsa in the chest, sending her stumbling backwards several steps. Winded by the boot and heaving, she fell to her knees while gulping for air.

"...but you picked the _wrong neighbourhood_ to get rowdy, Snow Queen." Anna finished. Elsa rose to her feet just as her sister issued a challenge by twirling her flaming knives around her fingers, and became distinctly aware of just how much the solid fighting took out of her. Arms heavy like lead, her legs fighting the seductive force of gravity, Elsa panted as she took stock.

Merida was still fighting Pitch, but Rapunzel was on the ground and wasn't moving - though the lack of radio calls from the _Hammer_ about her health led Elsa to believe that she was merely unconscious. Frost was _literally_ dragging Astrid behind him as he flew around the deck. Her sister, her own flesh and blood was stood on the opposing side of the line, with the power to harness fire and seemingly in full control of it, unaware of her identity and determined to kill her - so much for the Ghost's sixth rule. She didn't know how it came to be that Anna had become a Ghost while she became the antithesis, nor how it is that her beloved sister was what she was, but she knew one thing.

"I won't...fight you." Elsa panted, a little more breathlessly than she would have liked.

Her fingers relaxed, and the handle of her sword slipped from her grasp and clattered harmlessly to the floor, depriving her of protection from her younger sister. Anna's sapphire blues flicked down to the sword as it hit the ground, and cocked her head slightly while keeping her blades in position. It was a good time, Elsa decided, for her to unmask herself...but then again, if her _sister_ found out what she was, how would she react?

It took but a second for her to realise, as Anna hissed ' _fine!'_ and charged forward, that she was about to find out.

* * *

 

Anna was momentarily puzzled by Snow Queen's strange gesture of disarming herself, especially when she looked like she was going to fall over from fatigue, but it didn't really matter. Just made it easier for her. "Fine!" she hissed, and instantly launched herself into a full sprint, charging headlong at her enemy. Snow Queen instinctively braced herself for what she thought would be a blistering assault with her knives...except, fighting with Kozmotis taught her misdirection. Training with Jack? Acrobatics.

She leapt into the air, and thrust her feet towards Snow Queen's head. Wrapping her thighs around that weird mask while Snow Queen's hands automatically went up to grab them, Anna then fell backwards and let her weight do the rest - while she gracefully landed on her feet, Snow Queen tipped over and practically completed a roll in the air before harshly landing on her back, letting out a strangled yelp of pain.

Seizing the advantage, Anna quickly dropped to sit astride her fallen enemy. Sliding one knife back into its sheath, she mentally extinguished the flames and held the other to Snow Queen's neck, glared into her rectangular goggles and hissed tauntingly, "What was it you said to him, way back in the battle of the depot?"

"Please...don't…" she heard Snow Queen weakly plead.

"Oh yeah…' _let's see what you look like…'"_ she muttered with a half-smirk, and despite Snow Queen's odd protests, her left hand manoeuvred itself behind the mask and found the two clips that held it in place, disconnected them, and pulled the mask away...only for her heart to stop.

It was like the world fell away from her. Nothing was registered by her senses in that moment, not the approaching roar from the west, the sounds of frenetic battle behind her, or the clatter of her knife as it slipped from her grasp just before she covered her mouth with her hands, nothing but the face of her elder sister Elsa gazing wide-eyed back at her, like a blast from the past aimed straight at her heart.

"No…" she murmured behind her hands, her eyes widened to their limit as she stared, horrified, into the ice-blue orbs belonging to someone she had not seen for six years. "No...no, no…"

"Anna…" Elsa weakly spoke. Anna vigorously shook her head, feeling the blood drain from her extremities to seek refuge in her chest. It couldn't be.

"No...this...this…" she continued rambling, before she was gripped by the compelling urge to scream, " _NO!"_

"Anna, please…" Elsa pleaded as she tried to push on one elbow to get up. She didn't know why, not that she had the ability to think clearly, but she collapsed backwards and scrambled away from her sister, staring in fear and shock.

"Get away from me!" she shrieked, and Elsa looked like she had just been slapped in the face. "You...you're one of _them!_ You're a Valkyrie! This…" she hesitated, more out of a complete loss of what to say than anything, "...this is wrong!"

Anna jumped as she felt a pair of hands grasp her left arm, and was about to fight off the owner before she felt the familiar ice-cold of her best friend's fingertips against her exposed skin. Pulled to her feet, she felt Jack support her body while she was unable to look away.

It was a dream. It _had_ to be. There was no way her sister, who went into her bedroom a happy, tired, kind eighteen year old only to never come out again, who refused to see her for three years, who was a world away for another three despite Anna's occasional attempt to find her...there was no way that her beloved elder sister could have signed up with the fascist, abnormal-hunting Valkyries. No way she could become their _leader_.

But the truth was there. No matter how she tried to rationalise it with thoughts zipping by at a million miles an hour.

"Anna, you recognise her?" she vaguely heard Jack worriedly ask as he protectively wrapped an arm around her shoulder, something that antagonised Elsa judging by the flash of anger in her eyes. Instinctively huddling against him, Anna clutched at his tank top while she searched for the energy to answer.

"She's...she's my sister. That's...t-that's Elsa." she whispered.

"Holy shit," Jack gasped, then yelled somewhere behind him, "Pitch! Quit fooling around with Dorkeye and get over here!"

Her eyes still locked on the personification of change, upon the angry bruise on the left side of Elsa's face, Anna watched as the Valkyrie leader was lifted to her feet by the one known as Viking - who seemed to be nursing a few aches and pains of her own.

"You…" she breathed. Questions raged through her mind; why did she disappear six years ago? Why did she ignore her? Why was she clad in a Valkyrie uniform, standing on the deck of her _home?_

"Please, let me explain…" Elsa offered calmly, holding one hand out towards her as though to placate her. It had the reverse effect of compelling Anna to huddle further into her best friend - ordinarily she'd be standing on her own, relying on no-one, but this emotional sucker-punch that ripped her heart in two and turned her world upside down meant that she needed Jack's support and comfort. Seemingly, Elsa needed the same - Viking moved to be at her side, flanking her in protection and support.

"How could you?! How could you become one of _them?_ " she nearly shouted in anguish, just as she felt the presence of Kozmotis moving to stand behind her. Elsa flinched, clearly unable to answer.

"Please, just…" her elder sister tried to speak, but yet again made the mistake of reaching out to her. Anna recoiled sharply.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, and Elsa's hand shot back to grasp the other over her chest while gazing at her in plea-filled distress, "I don't want you to hurt me like you hurt my friends!"

She could _see_ Elsa's breath catch at her words, but they were true nonetheless; Anna was scared of her sister. What the Valkyries had done, sending all of the other teams to incarceration and certain death, it was like the platinum blonde woman standing in front of her was not her sister, but someone warped and cruel wearing her sister's skin. Using her voice. Wearing her hair in a tight bun instead of the gorgeous single braid she used to wear.

However, there was no more time to think on it. The area around them burst into a brilliant light, and with one hand covering her eyes, all Anna could see was a sphere of dazzling white above her - whatever it was that Jack mentioned over the radio while she was on the third deck had just arrived, and was birthing several smaller lights. Following one that descended, she watched as the orb of light became two. Blocking out the light above her with her left hand, she could pick out the shape of a dropship landing on the deck and immediately spilling out its contents; if it wasn't already full of nausea from the revelation, her stomach clenched further when she saw a dozen fully armed clone-soldiers march down the embarkation ramp.

"Welp," Jack quipped in a slightly high pitched voice, an altogether contradictory thing considering the circumstances, "time to scoot. Exit Ghosts, stage left."

She felt Jack tug at her left arm while Kozmotis dived to pick up her discarded knife, and with one last stunned glance at her sister - or what used to be - she turned away from her and _ran._ Away from Unity, away from the Valkyries...away from _her._

* * *

 

Not exactly the family reunion she would have hoped for, and that was an understatement.

While she had no idea of how Anna would react after six years, what happened was nothing short of heartbreaking. Instead of pleasant surprise, she saw shock. Rather than joy, there was fear. Everything that Elsa never wanted to happen, did, as soon as her mask was removed.

And then when she clung protectively to Frost - her enemy - and called him her best friend? It made her feel sick. Especially when both attempts to reach out to her were met with terrified flinches that stabbed at her heart. Her own sister wouldn't touch her. She would rather stand beside the man that killed her parents rather than her flesh-and-blood. Fleetingly, Elsa wondered what that said about _her_ , if Anna felt safer with _him._

She felt thankful for Astrid, though. Despite them not being on the best of terms by any stretch of the imagination, the taller Valkyrie had made a beeline straight for her, helped her to stand and was now standing protectively at her side. Almost as though all the disdain, insults and contempt had been put aside in the face of emotional pain and decidedly-awkward reunions.

The area around them was suddenly bathed in a dazzling white light, which meant only one thing - the _Hammer_ had taken position across the Guardian Star's port side and was proceeding to deploy her troops. Any chance Elsa may have had at trying to get through to her sister, simply to talk, had been taken away the moment Anna's spooked stare had switched from her, to the dropship she could hear landing behind her.

"Welp," Frost blurted almost casually, "time to scoot. Exit Ghosts, stage left."

It was on the tip of Elsa's tongue to shriek at Frost, to demand that he release her sister and get away from her, but a single glance from Anna just before she turned to run stilled her words in her throat. It was a glance of...hurt. The kind of hurt that you feel when someone has stabbed you in the back, and twisted the blade. As though Anna held her on a pedestal, as a role model to aspire to, and Elsa had fallen from that grace.

It was _his_ fault. Not only had Frost turned her, but he had manipulated her. Made her think that he was a friend, her _best_ friend.

Unable to speak, Elsa could only watch as Anna bolted for the structure a couple of hundred yards away, ostensibly for safety within the archaic ship. It was like she had been robbed of her words, of her breath, even of her ability to move…

...until she noticed a clone trooper, clad in the usual combat gear, jogging past Astrid's right towards the fleeing Ghosts. Her eyes flicked from the trooper to her sister and back again, noticing that Anna had linked her arm under Frost's shoulders as they ran and was assisting him in their dash for safety. Glancing back to the clone, she saw him raise his rifle.

" _NO!"_ she screamed. Time seemed to slow down, possibly thanks to the sudden surge of adrenaline in her limbs out of the desire to protect her sister from harm, and she launched herself into a hard sprint directly at the clone, who was taking aim and whose finger was starting to squeeze the trigger. Her footfalls came fast and sure, her thoughts focused.

With a second to spare, she reached out and grabbed the barrel of the rifle, thereby putting herself in front of the muzzle and its target just as a blue bolt of energy shot out and impacted against her chest. Her eyes wide, and panting heavily, there was a moment where she wondered why the bolt had not knocked her out - until the slightly tight sensation against her ribs of her energy-dissipation armour as she gasped for breath reminded her that it had just saved her.

What happened next was simply down to both her reflexes and indignant fury at the trooper having the audacity to shoot at her sister; Elsa jerked the rifle to the clone's left out of his other hand, leaving the trigger-hand trapped. She then twisted it sharply, forcing the clone to yelp out in pain. Incensed, she ducked under his arm, rose to push her shoulder against his elbow joint and yanked his arm down. A wet _crack_ filled the air just as the clone screamed in agony, and as his fingers loosened for a second, Elsa pulled the rifle from his grasp, pivoted on her right foot and, with both hands in a brutal two-handed swing, smashed the stock as hard as she could against his helmet. With how the glass visor shattered under the impact before he dropped like a sack of potatoes to the ground, and how he wasn't moving, she briefly wondered if the spontaneous violence had killed him.

"Elsa...what did you…" Astrid gaped, but Elsa was most decidedly _not_ listening. Her attention was firmly fixed upon her sister, who must have heard her scream and turned to see what was going on. Even no more than eighty yards ahead, Elsa could still pick out the surprise and confusion etched upon her young features, seconds before she turned back and bolted with Frost.

Compelled by a need for her sister - possibly to save her from both the clone troopers _and_ the Ghosts - Elsa tossed the rifle aside, launched herself into a sprint and gave chase. Adrenaline flowed through her veins, tunneling her vision and fuelling her mad dash. Her breaths came thick and fast, her throat and lungs felt like they were on fire, and a stitch was starting to make itself known in her diaphragm. None of it mattered, though, only Anna did.

She was gaining on them. Fifteen yards behind. Fourteen. Thirteen. She was so close, it was like she could reach out and touch her. Twelve...eleven...ten...

...but then Anna did something that made her skid to a halt, something that both terrified and captivated her in equal measure; she displayed her power and just how different she was.

The younger sister threw down a ball of flame just ahead to her left and stopped just on the other side of the happily burning, head-sized ball of fire. She then spread her arms as though ripping an invisible force apart, then threw her hands into the air. Obediently and under her complete control, the ball of fire stretched into a line and travelled either side at an impressive speed, and it was only a few seconds before it reached both the starboard and port edges of the ship - and then it exploded into a human-sized wall of fire. Elsa's hands shot up to shield her face against the searing heat, and she squinted through her fingers, searching between the flickers of the barrier inferno for a sign of her sister.

She found her. Just before Anna resumed her last dash to safety, their eyes locked, and it broke Elsa's heart to see such betrayal, such hurt, such _anger_ etched upon the face of the girl who used to be so happy, joyful and bright. So much had changed between them, and in a heartbreaking show of irony, Anna was no longer being shut out.

Anna was the one shutting _her_ out.

As she watched her sister dive behind the main door of the structure, she backed away from the searing heat of the flames, unable to tear her eyes away yet feeling distinctly heated. Her hands instinctively reached for a pouch at her hip, and dipped two fingers inside to retrieve her silver pill case. Popping two of them into her mouth, she found it increasingly difficult to swallow past the lump in her throat...the obstruction that came with the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

  _ **THE PURGE: IN PROGRESS**_

* * *

 


	26. The Purge: The Fall of Thermopylae

" **The Purge: The Fall of Thermopylae"**

* * *

_The high school graduation ceremony was long over, and it had been at_ least _an hour and a half since the Snowfield family returned from the celebration - but Anna was predictably far too excited to sleep. So. while their mother and father were downstairs, she and Elsa were sat cross-legged on Anna's bed and had been for a while, simply talking about how much they enjoyed the night. "I still can't believe you graduated in the top one percent!" she babbled, then froze as a thought came across her, "wait - yes I can. You're smart. Of course you did." she hastily corrected, closing her eyes and shaking her hands and her head._

_Elsa chuckled awkwardly. "I was as surprised as you to learn of the award," She reached a hand up to her braid and tugged at it, cringing. "My speech left a lot to be desired, however." she added, and Anna easily spotted the flushing of her cheeks in embarrassment even in the dim light of her bedroom._

" _Gee, you think?" she teased, then cleared her throat for an overly theatrical impression. "I...um...wow, I...well, this is...an honor, truly, I...it's a very nice award...er…" she sputtered mockingly. "Seriously, you were like a rabbit in hover-car lights."_

" _Was not!" Elsa protested, her elegant blue dress shimmering in the light as she slapped a cackling Anna's arms. "I was just...completely unprepared, is all!"_

_Anna rolled her eyes, then promptly gave her a funny look. "Sure. Your boyfriend looked like he was either going to burst out laughing, or double over in pain."_

_Elsa winced. "He did, didn't he…oh, I'm so embarrassed!" she whined, burying her face in her hands presumably to hide the blush of shame. Anna clucked her tongue, and curled half a smile while she endured a slight sensation of guilt, then reached over to pull her sister's hands from her face._

" _Hey, I'm proud of you, 'sis." she said softly. Elsa looked up, and if Anna could she would have holo-photographed her sister's blinding beam for posterity. "Really. I have the best sister in the world, the best friend and the best role model. Doesn't matter if you messed up the speech."_

_With shimmering eyes Elsa squeaked, and surged forward to wrap her arms around Anna, who relished the rarity of being the elder-yet-younger sister. "Thank you, Anna. God, I love you so much!" Elsa whispered into the fabric of her pyjamas._

" _Love you too!" Anna responded with closed eyes and a happy grin, feeling the sensation of sequins on her palms as she stroked Elsa's back. "Don't you forget about me when you're off to New Arendelle College!"_

_The moment the words left her mouth, they carried with them an unspoken truth she had tried hard to ignore. Tense silence fell between them. Her face dropped, and her fingers began to fiddle with the fabric of her pyjama pants. "When will you leave?" she asked quietly as she focused on the hem, her voice small._

" _September," Elsa answered, her voice monotone but sad, "but I'll be moving to New Arendelle a few days before I enrol."_

_Anna nibbled at her inner lip, and swallowed thickly while her fidgeting intensified. "You'll still call?"_

" _Oh, Anna." She felt a hand clasp over her fingers, and looked up at her sister's smiling face. "Of course I will," Elsa reassured her, "every day."_

" _Promise?" Anna murmured, her voice cracking and her eyes wet. That lump in her throat was being really inconvenient._

_Holding her hands, Elsa squeezed. "Promise. Nothing will ever tear us apart, Anna."_

_What she said spurred her to surge forward and, almost possessively, wrap her arms around Elsa's shoulders. "Congratulations on graduating. I'm so proud of you." she murmured against her neck._

_She felt a kiss on her cheek just before her sister whispered, "Thank you, Anna." Pulling back, Elsa smiled warmly, and Anna felt her hands be taken and held. "No matter what," Elsa said firmly, as though making an oath, "sisters forever...right?"_

_Anna nodded emphatically. "Right! Sisters…"_

* * *

"...forever."

Distracted by Anna's abrupt murmur, Jack cast her a glance while he continued his work - sealing the flight deck door shut, using the bolts of ice streaming from his staff's tip to create a thick, tough layer around it. He eyed her concernedly; she was leaning against the wall to his right out of support rather than nonchalance. Gazing at an invisible point on the floor in deep thought while her arms were wrapped protectively around her tank top-covered chest, she looked like a lost little girl. Especially since her eyes seemed to be deciding whether to stream or not. "Say what?" he asked.

"It was-"

She stopped herself, frowning as though her train of thought had been hit by a tactical missile. She closed her eyes, and Jack could easily spot her bottom lip making its way between her teeth. "It was the last thing we said to each other before she…"

"Disappeared." Jack finished.

Anna shot him the briefest of glances before nodding. "Yeah." she answered quietly. If he was honest, Jack wasn't sure what to say at that point; he couldn't really relate to Anna's situation, and sibling reunions on the battlefield weren't exactly something one could prepare for. The fact that she wasn't a mess of tears and grief was a testament to her inner strength, but it was clear that it had taken one hell of a hit, and Anna wasn't sure which way she would jump. He debated embracing her in a hug, but figured that she first needed to process what she had seen, so elected to return his gaze to the ice seal. "Sisters forever," she murmured, and immediately let slip a bitter scoff. "Sure."

Jack exhaled through his nose as he closed upon the last inch of ice-free metal, hoping she would not ask the million credit question. Ever since he started to seal the door, he too had been processing what he had seen, whilst also tallying it with the last time he saw Anna's sister. "Jack," her quiet voice rang out like a thunderclap, "why didn't you tell me you saw her?"

No such luck. Sighing, he ceased the ice stream and let his arms drop, careful not to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, Anna. I didn't know it was her."

"But you _saw_ her." she pressed - strangely, there was no accusation but a plea for understanding.

"Anna," he began quickly, but checked himself. "it was dim in the apartment, I couldn't make out her face properly. Not to mention the fact," he added in an anxious voice, "blonde hair and blue eyes is, like, a third of Unity's female population."

She said nothing; whether she bought Jack's explanation or not...he didn't know. What he _did_ know was that she was hurting inside - to find out that the sister she looked up to and admired had become the leader of the very team out to take them down...he couldn't begin to imagine the extent of her pain. "This isn't how it's supposed to go-if I ever saw her again, I dreamed of hugging her and holding her for a long time. Making sure she knew how much I loved her and that we'd be sisters again and-"

"Anna." Jack attempted, but was summarily overridden.

"-we'd be a family, I could bring her here-I should have gone back to find her so this might never have happened, oh God I'm terrible person-" Anna continued to ramble, her voice becoming increasingly broken with each word "-but what was I supposed to do-I'm the very thing she's supposed to destroy-why did she have to become a Valkyrie-"

"Anna." Jack repeated louder, turning to face her this time. Frowning, he lowered his head to meet her gaze, which was off to her left staring anxiously at the wall. Yet, she didn't stop, not even to take a deep breath.

"-all those people they've captured-Flynn's team, the Spirits, the Furies, every one of them she's taken down, my _sister_ has taken them down...oh my God, I don't know what I'm-" she rambled and rambled, the cadence of her words speaking the same language as the fingers that agitatedly ran through her hair - panic.

" _Anna."_ he repeated, far more forcefully. She started, and her sapphire eyes snapped to his. Salty liquid pooled at her lower eyelids, and she looked every inch the kind of person whose world had been turned upside down in a matter of minutes, with no-one to tell her why. Jack let his staff slip from his fingers and clatter to the floor. Ignoring it, he reached out and firmly held her shoulders, gazing at her with sentinel-like intensity. "Are you with me, Anna?" he asked.

She blinked, and stared blankly at him. "Jack," she murmured, yet her voice still retained the nervous lilt, "I don't know what-"

Jack cut her off, firmly but kindly. " _Are you with me, Anna?"_

It was a simple but meaningful question - Anna was going down the rabbit hole of memories, emotions and anxiety, so she needed grounding. Prioritisation - defence of the _Star_ now, surprise family reunion later. Compartmentalise and focus on the task ahead, and with an inward sigh of relief, Jack noticed her once glassy eyes sharpen, heard the deep breath through her nose and out of her mouth as her body straightened upright...proud and confident, like she always was. "I'm with you," she answered, nodding slowly as her hands placed themselves behind her back in the standard _at ease_ position.

"Good," Jack promptly declared, gently smirking as he lightly fisted her shoulder, just before he bent to pick up his staff, "don't want my knight in fiery armour to be distracted." His thumb pressed the staff's button to collapse it, and once he returned it to his bracer he turned and made his way to the stairs. "Come on. We'll link up with Flynn and-"

He froze mid-sentence and step, the words slipping into a void never to be seen again. "Jack? What's wrong?" Anna asked with concern after nearly colliding with his back. For a moment, he wasn't sure how to answer her question - to describe the feeling of his powers humming and buzzing like an agitated nest of wasps was...well, he had no idea how to describe the sensation of disquiet it always brought. What he _could_ tell her, however, was the reason.

"She's here," he murmured.

He could practically _see_ Anna shrugging. "Um...yeah? That's...kinda old news?"

"No," Jack shook his head slowly, and was struck with how easily the sensations took him by surprise and therefore disturbed him. Turning to face Anna, he looked straight over her shoulder and pointed to the now-frozen door, wearing an expression of unnerved wonder. "She's here."

"You can-" she began, bemused, then it finally dawned on her, "-wait, that's your Spidey sense...whatever Koz called it…" she finished as he moved past her towards the door. He slowly nodded, his brow furrowing as he stared at a fixed point in the upper-centre, above the wheel-lock.

"Yeah...but...it's weird." he murmured, coming to a stop. Anna uttered a request for explanation as she pulled up at his side, which he attempted to give - despite it sounding decidedly extraordinary. "Right now, I'm scared, angry, worried, excited, anxious, all of that. The weird thing is, not only am I feeling my powers acting kooky, but it's like they're carrying something...emotions that aren't even mine." he explained, frowning heavily as though even _he_ didn't believe it.

"What emotions?" Anna asked, head tilted and cocking an eyebrow.

What happened was instinctive; Jack's left hand reached up and feathered itself across the cold metal of the door, exactly where he had been staring. He didn't know why...it was a compulsion. "Confusion, mostly. Sadness, too. Hell of a lot of anger, no surprise there." he answered, and closed his eyes as he cocked his head to the side, trying to make sense of the maelstrom that wasn't his. "There's love, too...but also fear…here," he took Anna's left hand and placed it next to his, "she's just on the other side. That's so weird; how do I know that?" he asked, glancing at her a few times, as though she could enlighten him.

Anna stood in silence for a few seconds, but it was clear that she did not share the sensations agitating his powers. Her brow was mildly scrunched, as though waiting for something she did not know or understand. Jack didn't know why, but he felt disappointment that her gifts did not resonate as his did. "I don't know," she answered slowly, but chose to pull her hand away, "but we'll work it out later, I guess. Well... _you_ will, Mr. Existential Crisis." she added with a smirk.

Jack shot her a look. "Ha-ha," he sneered with Overland-grade sarcasm, taking care to jovially push the snickering Anna as he turned back towards the staircase.

* * *

Strange how someone's world could fit into a small circle around their being, but that was exactly Elsa's world at that point in time. The rhythmic hundredfold bootsteps of several clone battalions all marching in perfect two abreast formations, flawlessly in step. The murmurs between Astrid, Merida and Rapunzel, the latter having woken up from her Pitch Black-induced unconsciousness and sat on one of the countless cuboid steel ammunition crates, her elbows on her knees with her head in her hands.

None of those occurrences existed, because Elsa's world consisted of herself, the door into the aging carrier, and her hand resting upon it. Everything else but the cold metal under her touch was a blur, a mess of voices and sounds blending together. In essence, time stood still.

She closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. Anna was on the other side of the door, she was sure of it. Her heart told her so. A simple door separated her from her sister, their worlds from each other. A door, locked from the inside. How ironic.

Inwardly, she would have laughed at the bitter irony, had her heart not felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand pins. Fate was not without a sense of humour, but the odds of their reunion in such circumstances?

Fate was a fucking comedian.

After all, she got exactly what she wanted - a reunion with her sister. A day where they could meet again, and...well, she didn't know how to proceed beyond that point, but after six years it didn't really matter. Just to see Anna again would be enough. Then fate decided to grant her wish and twist it - a reunion in fire, violence and blood, with Anna's blade inches from her neck, and a face of heartbroken betrayal behind a deadly wall of flame. It was _that_ sight that hit her the hardest - the last time she saw Anna, there was nothing but pride and love on that adorably freckled face. Six years had changed it into the hardened, confident face of a skilled warrior.

Oh, not to mention one who could manipulate fire. Elsa had to applaud Fate for that particular revelation - it was an inspired twist. Well played.

She stepped forward, her hand remaining upon the door while her other arm protectively held her chest, still longing to be on the other side. "Anna…" she murmured, frowning sadly, and swallowed the pain in her throat that formed.

The already cold surface of the metal under her fingertips suddenly dropped so sharply it was painful. Hissing a breath through gritted teeth, she jerked her hand away from the door and protectively cupped it with the other, rubbing it furiously to bring back the warmth. She scowled at the door - only one person could have plunged the metal's temperature like that. "Fuck you, Frost." she hissed.

"Deja vu."

Elsa reacted with a start, and quickly whirled around to face Astrid. Like her, the taller woman was maskless, but regarded her with eyes of mild scrutiny. Almost as though she was a passing curiosity. "What did you say?" she asked, frowning.

Astrid stared at her for a few more seconds, enough to make Elsa shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, prompting her to defensively fold her arms. The two Valkyries, ever at odds continued to stare each other out, before Astrid eventually shrugged with out-of-place nonchalance and found the starlit sky to be suddenly _very_ interesting. "Nothing." she chirped.

Elsa eyed her a few moments, her jaw jutting in thought, wondering if it was worth expending the energy to get Astrid to talk. Grunting with attempted indifference, she tried to deflect her. "How's Rapunzel?"

"Good," Astrid answered airily, as though there was nothing to worry about. "She'll probably have a hell of a headache, but she should be combat ready." Elsa nodded her acknowledgement, and was just about to turn back to the door when Astrid offhandedly said, "So…sister, huh?"

There it was, precisely the topic she was hoping to avoid. It was bad enough that neither of them got on and were clearly only talking out of professional courtesy, but now Astrid knew. She could even use it against her. "Indeed," Elsa responded flatly. Maybe her feigned indifference would throw Astrid off.

No such luck. "Hell of a way to find her." she remarked, gazing in the vague direction of Orion's Belt. Thank you, Captain Obvious. "Does it...you know...change anything?" she continued, curious.

Huh, not so curious. Nevertheless, Elsa's answer was a simple, "No," and a stubborn glare, though the grinding of her teeth was less obvious. "It changes nothing."

Astrid suddenly lost interest in Cassiopeia. Her head snapped down and shot her a confused look. "Really? Pretty sure your sister is best buddies with-" she questioned, clearly surprised.

Whatever cool Elsa had promptly vacated the premises. "It's a _lie!_ " she shouted, the words escaping her mouth before she even knew it. Astrid drew back, staring at her with raised brows, startled and incredulous. Hell, even Merida and Rapunzel ceased their hushed chatter, and a few of the faceless clones threw looks her way. Well, hidden behind their helmets, at least.

Her heart thudded, and self-conscious heat flooded her cheeks. Way to attract attention - and show even more of a vulnerability to a second in command with whom she has more friction than between an Inquisitor and _everyone else._ Astrid stuck her tongue in her cheek and cocked her hip, her back-mounted axe scraping against her asphalt-scraped trench coat with the movement. Elsa closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, pushing away the anger to save herself from further humiliation. "Frost is lying to her. If she knew what he did, if she _truly_ knew how our parents died...Anna is not stupid, she would not have joined them. They are keeping the truth from her, I know it. They have twisted and manipulated her mind, it's the only reason she sides with them against us...against me."

Astrid slowly shook her head, a gesture less of refusal and more of resignation. "I know this roaring rampage of revenge is your thing but...Elsa, you sound like you've lost touch with reality." she spoke slowly. Elsa rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand.

"No, but I suppose in a way you're right. It does change things - I am now more determined to kill him than ever. Frost has taken my entire _family_." she spoke emphatically, but firmly. Elsa the indomitable, unstoppable…

...not delusional.

Astrid sighed, and looked away as she unclipped the mask from her belt. "I'm not gonna argue with you, Snow Queen. I've had enough of that crap." she stated plainly. It made Elsa tense; Astrid was argumentative and stubborn, unwilling to listen to reason and possessing the tenacity of a dog with a bone, and she just declined the opportunity to argue. The taller Valkyrie wrapped her mask around her face, clipped it together and drew up her hood - so the next time she spoke, it was with the distorted, mechanical cadence of the voice modulator. "But what if you're wrong?"

Elsa scoffed. "About what?"

"Everything." Astrid answered simply.

* * *

While she was busy staving off a panic attack and while Jack was engaged in freezing a door shut, the ship's crew had wasted no time in travelling to the first deck to set up their positions. Almost as soon as Anna's foot touched down upon the metal floor, she was greeted with several dozen men and women, all toting the silver stun rifles. They had taken positions mostly behind the watertight door frames, narrow enough to not impede movement but wide enough for decent cover. Some had elected to kneel directly in the middle of the corridor, while others waited in some of the adjacent rooms.

It was worrying, though, how scared those people looked. When the drills were conducted, it was always with the knowledge that it was all pretend. No black-clad, faceless Unity soldiers were going to storm the ship, and at the end of the drill they could all tuck into lunch. Fish, usually. Stupid rationing.

But it was real, _so_ real. As Anna passed them on the way to where the corridor became a crossroads, there was a clench in her stomach when she saw how scared most of them were. How some looked like they were on a knife edge between standing their ground and cowering in fear. One man was knelt behind a door frame, resting his forehead against the barrel of the rifle while he murmured something she could barely catch - " _I'm sorry, honey, I don't think I'm coming home...take care of Susan for me...if there's anyone up there, keep them safe."_ Another already had the Thousand Yard Stare down to an art, focusing on a scratch in the floor while they became lost in their own mind. A woman with mocha skin and gorgeously curly short hair held her rifle so tightly that her fingertips and knuckles paled. How cruel it was, Anna thought, that such people should be thrust into war?

She had her training to fall back on. They didn't.

The _only_ person who didn't look perturbed in the slightest was Kozmotis as he knelt at the crossroads halfway down the corridor, but that was no surprise. _Nothing_ fazed him when it came to combat.

Whenever she glanced at Jack as they passed through each doorway, the solemn expression on his face reflected hers - it was obvious that their thoughts were the same. Their footfalls continued on, silence between them save for the sounds of movement, quiet coughs, the occasional sniff and a _lot_ of shuffling as those kneeling down had to move aside, until they reached the crossroads. Jack instantly turned right and parked himself just around the corner near a ship-wide P.A. system mounted on the wall, while Anna turned left and took that corner.

"Frost to Harvester, you reading me?" Jack spoke emotionlessly, leaning on the wall while he peered down the corridor. Kristoff's voice returned over the radio almost instantly, sounding a little distracted.

" _Five by five, Frost. Sitrep?"_

"Reinforced the flight deck door with two inches of ice, should slow them down. Crew is here, they're taking positions. Streak is safe." Jack answered, shooting her a wink. Anna simply rolled her eyes, disapproving.

" _Copy. Streak, how're you doing?"_ Kristoff asked - as he would be apt to do as a concerned husband, not to mention superior officer.

"Five by five, chief," she answered with an attempt at a breezy tone, "you don't need to worry about me." Please don't pursue it, she thought. She was having difficulty compartmentalising things as it was, and Kristoff could be relentless.

Mercifully, her husband chose not to press the subject. " _Copy. Night Fury, what's the score?"_

Hiccup answered almost immediately, though his speech was amazingly rushed and interspersed with the odd curse. " _At least a thousand mooks on the flight deck, and looks like they're - holy crap - waiting for more before they breach. They're doing something else a hundred or so meters from the - yikes, that was close - door, but I can't tell what."_

"You okay up there?" Jack asked, frowning as he stared at a small scratch of paint on the floor.

" _Just tangling with about eight Einherjar pilots that appeared out of nowhere when I flew by the Unity ship. I think they've - whoa whoa whoa, too close! - found a way to cut through the interference, 'cause Toothless is in full dodge-monkey mode and they're doing a better job of shaving me than my razor. They're not the problem though."_

" _Explain."_ Kristoff nearly barked.

" _The Hammer of Unity, that's its name-"_ Hiccup clarified, and Anna shared a groaning look with Jack at the chosen name for the flying abomination, " _just crapped out about two hundred or more drones. They'll tear any ship apart that tries to leave. You might want to do something about that."_

" _Copy,"_ Kristoff acknowledged their air support's advice, " _Pitch, come get Glitch from the hangar deck and take him to the turret room. Sooner we can start laying down cover fire, sooner we can start the evacuation."_

Kozmotis' response was wordless save for a quiet " _understood…"_ leaving Anna and Jack to wait in the corridor. She glanced at his receding figure as he passed Jack and rounded a corner out of sight, and felt a flash of anxiety tear through her body. Whether it was her mentor's sudden departure, or the entire situation causing the nervousness she didn't know, but if she was to be honest she wished it would back the fuck off.

Jack, however, did an admirable job of distracting her - something for which she was inwardly grateful - and it wasn't even his intention. Her eyes switched over to him as he stiffened, wearing the classic " _I have an idea"_ expression. "Hey, Harvester? Anyone near the _Fairy?"_ he asked.

" _Hawkins. Why?"_

"Tell him Frost says ' _maiden'._ He'll know what it means." Jack explained, the traces of a secretive, mischievous smirk curling his lips. Anna immediately frowned and mouthed ' _what's maiden?'_ at him, to which he replied with a gesture that only deepened her curiosity - a wink. ' _You'll see,'_ he mouthed back.

Kristoff indicated his bemused acknowledgement while Anna glanced at the approaching footsteps echoing through the corridor - Eugene, fresh from handing out weapons, breathlessly jogging towards them with a pair of stun rifles in each hand, another over one shoulder and his favourite shotgun slung over the other - " _I keep this handy for close encounters",_ he once said - taking care to hop over each knee-knocker in his path.

"Hey guys," he panted. Jogging up two flights of stairs and practically an entire ship, he looked exhausted. "Brought you some party-poppers." He tossed the rifle to Anna first, who caught it and automatically shouldered it to check the sight, while Jack did the same. "So," he then began, wearing a face of attempted nonchalance while his mouth formed an O, "uninvited guests, huh?"

"That's about the size of it," Jack agreed. Nodding, Eugene unslung his stun rifle from his shoulder and muttered something about it being extremely rude to arrive unannounced, and without gifts at that. Anna chuckled quietly to herself - it was so like Eugene to be facetious about combat. Who else would carry a frying pan named Agatha into a brawl?

"So," Eugene opened, elongating the 'o', "what's the plan, cap'n?"

Jack gestured to the corridor he and Anna came down with the rifle's barrel, filled with anxious and on-edge men and women. "We control the only way in and out of the ship, so they _have_ to come this way. We bottleneck them just beyond the stairs, and hopefully they'll be too busy trying to get over the pile of stunned clones to actually fight. If we have to, we fall back." he explained tiredly. Knelt on the floor, Anna watched as Jack crossed his legs and slumped against the wall, resting his head. For a second she wondered if he was going to fall asleep - after all, he did go straight from a brawl with Kozmotis to a full-on skirmish on the flight deck with two Valkyries. He had to be shattered, but was still determined to fight - then again, with their lives on the line, there wasn't anything else he could do.

"A fighting retreat, in other words." Anna added. She clicked her neck, and shook off the stiffness and ache of her joints. "We just have to slow them down as much as we can."

Eugene nodded as he shouldered his rifle and relaxed his arms. Glancing over, Anna noticed how his eyes kept flitting over to her and then back to Jack. "What about the Valkyries, are we-"

"Rule six," Jack interrupted with a firm, no-discussion voice, "knock 'em out or trap 'em. No killing." he added. Feeling a wave of relief crash down upon her, Anna shot him a look of gratitude and he winked in response - she didn't know what she was going to do with Elsa, but she sure as hell didn't want her dead. At least, not without finding out why the hell she was on the side of the fascists and anti-abnormals. Eugene frowned with a clear lack of understanding - undoubtedly derived from his own experience - and opened his mouth to question Jack's order, but was silenced with a slow shake of the head and a stern expression from the second-in-command.

Silence descended between the three. Anna shuffled uncomfortably; she was starkly conscious of _why_ Jack invoked the sixth rule, but it did leave her feeling like she was complicating things. Eugene looked like he was having real trouble accepting the order, something that did not surprise her in the least, while Jack nestled himself against the wall and tried to catch a minute or two's shut-eye. Unwritten rule of being at war - if it's safe to grab a nap, do it. Exhausted soldiers are dead soldiers. However, the tense silence became a little too much for her to bear, so with a finger to her ear she called over the radio, "Hey, Pitch, what was that battle with the three hundred dudes and the million dudes?

" _Thermopylae,"_ Kozmotis answered irritably, " _it was called the Battle of Thermopylae. Three hundred Spartans and several hundred Greeks, versus an overwhelming number of Persians."_

Jack's eyes opened and he cast her a half-lidded glance that danced between bemused and amused. "That's it! I remember. I guess we're the Spartans, huh?" she said brightly.

Eugene chuckled, shaking his head. "So how did the battle go, Pitch?" he asked, clearly tickled by Anna's demeanour. Sadly, the lighthearted moment was all too brief.

" _You don't want to know."_ Kozmotis answered grimly. Well, his version of grim was more along the line of brutally honest, but it nonetheless did the trick of killing the ephemeral good cheer stone dead. Jack's eyes crinkled with a pained grimace, while Eugene whistled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.

" _Guys - yowza, watch it! - they just brought out what looks like a breaching charge. If you've got any speeches planned, now's the time."_ Hiccup warned them, and then cheekily added, " _I vote Frost."_

"What?!" he protested, incredulous. "You saw what happened at Anna's wedding, right?

"Yes I did," Anna said with a smug tone that surprised even her, "and it was awesome. Two in favour. Any opposed?"

Eugene and Kristoff both indicated their assent, with the former explaining that it was hilarious to see Jack stutter so adorably, and the latter sweetening the deal by offering a round of beer once the battle was over. The good, rare stuff, naturally - not the cheap synth-beer. Only Kozmotis remained opposed, surprise surprise, indicating that he would rather shove a screwdriver into his ear.

Naturally _that_ would be the deciding factor. Anna knew Jack would jump at the chance to make Kozmotis squirm, so with the votes landing at three in favour and one opposed, she watched with an impish smirk her friend rest his rifle against the wall and tiredly clamber to his feet to pull down the ship-wide P.A. system.

She shot a quick look down the corridor before returning her gaze to Jack, who stared at an invisible spot on the wall, ostensibly trying to come up with a speech on the fly. She watched how his expression changed from ' _maybe...nah...wow, that sucks...could do...that's it!'_ in the space of about ten seconds while the handheld mic rested against his lips, and his free arm supporting his body as he leaned on the wall.

"You all know me as Frost. I'm supposed to do this big rousing speech, but I'm not." he paused. Anna shot him an incredulous frown, to which he responded with a ' _wait for it'_ finger. "I'm not going to remind you why you're here, 'cause you already know. I'm not going to tell you that if you get hurt, hurt 'em back, and if you get killed, walk it off. I'm not going to tell you not to be scared, because you have to be scared to be brave, and you're all the bravest people I know."

He glanced towards Anna, who blushed slightly. Unconventional, as usual. She looked away and peered once more down the corridor, and noticed with pride how the atmosphere had changed - sure, there was still fear in the air, but each face now wore an expression of astounding resolve.

"What I am going to do, as the host of Radio Ghost, is dedicate this little song by Iron _Maiden_ to the four lovely Valkyries and their fascist bullies on the flight deck, and the flying tin can off the starboard side. So, Snow Queen? This is called _Run to the Hills_ and it's just for you."

Whatever Jim Hawkins was supposed to do that Anna was completely unaware of, he did without a hitch, as the speakers around the ship immediately rang out with a rousing drumbeat and a smooth, high-pitched guitar melody. Grinning, she looked at Jack who smirked with a _told you_ raise of his eyebrows and a knowing twinkle in his eye, and could easily discern the chuckling of Eugene as he shook his head in exasperation.

" _White man came across the sea...he brought us pain and misery…"_

* * *

"What _is_ that horrible noise?" Elsa hissed, her upper lip curling in distaste as she waited for the breaching charge on the door to be armed. Previously quietly inspecting Merida and Rapunzel as they loitered to her right, she cast a filthy look at the announcement speakers halfway up the island structure.

Bad enough that Frost was openly mocking _her_ from relative safety but for him to choose such a cacophonous racket that was loosely defined as _music?_ She inwardly cursed the audio receptor devices in her mask, and dearly wished there was a way to shut them down. Judging by the slight bobbing of her head as she stood just to Elsa's left, however, Merida seemed to like it - and was thus reprimanded with a single look.

" _Run to the hills, run for your life!"_

"I don't know..." Astrid shrugged, her mildly indifferent voice distorted. She turned her head to Elsa, and stood far too casually for her liking. "...but I like it!"

' _You too, Astrid?'_ Elsa thought with an infuriated scowl.

"Yer boyfriend definitely has a sense of humor." Merida offered, giggling slightly. Elsa rounded upon her with an incensed glare, regrettably diminished by their respective masks.

"He is _not_ my boyfriend!" she snarled. Merida merely cocked her head, and her smirk would have probably been visible from orbit had she not been wearing her mask.

"So-ooo," Astrid interjected loudly and slowly trailed off, evidently hoping to distract Elsa from trying to burn Merida alive with the ferocity of her gaze. "We going in as soon as the door blows?" she asked almost casually as she swung the axe up to rest it on her shoulder, with her other hand on her hip.

"No," Elsa answered with her customary directness, yet internally smiled at Astrid's immediate confusion regarding her somewhat cryptic continuance, "we're making an entrance in style." she added, pointing to the crowd of soldiers a hundred or so meters to stern.

"Valkyrie Leader?"

Elsa swiveled on the spot to face a clone Alpha, who stood to attention a metre or two behind her, his full-length trench coat floating lazily in the wind. "Yes, soldier?" she answered, and waved her hand in a non-verbal suggestion for him to stand at ease.

"The charges have been set, and we are ready to breach," he answered, "standing by for your order."

Elsa drew her sword from the sheath on her back. Taking a moment, she looked around at the surrounding hive of activity. Clones stood tensed, ready for the assault. Sapper clones jogged away from the the island's door, where a manhole-sized explosive charge was magnetized to its surface. Legions of soldiers stood a safe distance from the incoming explosion, while others worked on the improvised secondary access point. A blue dot hurtled across the night sky, shrieking furiously while eight amber exhaust trails closely followed it - something that Astrid found to be rather fascinating - and then there was the black cloud of drones looping around the _Hammer_ like a swarm of enraged bees. This was the end, the finish line, the penultimate hour. Frost had nowhere to run. "Alpha," she addressed with an air of borderline smug victory...

"Begin the attack."

* * *

The astoundingly clear sound of an explosion rocked the corridor, nearly deafening the occupants who had, under Jack's order minutes ago, taken position inside the adjacent rooms out of sight. Hidden around the corner, his right hand around the rifle's grip while his finger caressed the trigger, he scrutinized the reflection of the corridor on the surface of his combat knife, held so it was peeking just around the corner. He could hear dozens of boot steps descending the hollow and thin metal stairs, and as they grew louder his heart punched against his ribcage to the point that it was almost painfully hard, pumping adrenaline to every inch of his body. He could see them. Mildly warped reflections of clone troopers, rifles raised, starting their approach. His breaths came slow and measured by intent. He looked across at Anna, whose back was pressed against the wall with her rifle held across her, waiting, attempting to peer around the corner. He twisted his head to the other side of him, where Eugene met his gaze with the left half of his lips curled to accompany a confident twinkle in his eyes. He glanced back at the reflection on his knife - they were halfway. Seconds away.

"Steady…" he murmured. Ten yards. He was starting to become dizzy with the heightened adrenaline.

"Steady…" he repeated. Five. He prayed no-one would lose it and fire early.

The closest clone was three yards away. "Now!" he yelled, and whirled around the corner.

Bolts of blue zipped from the barrels of his, Anna's and Eugene's rifles, leaving them and impacting the trooper that had the misfortune of being first. He kept firing, even as the ones behind momentarily hesitated in surprise, only to be taken _completely_ by surprise when dozens of blue torpedoes shot from the rooms either side of them, with some being hit in the back as they turned to shoot at whoever was attacking them from the other side. The twenty or so troopers that were stuck in the corridor had nowhere to go, and were mercilessly brought down by countless stun blasts from nearly all directions and it wasn't long before the floor was black with unconscious bodies.

Jack re-adjusted his aim to the end of the corridor and fired at where yet more clones descended the stairs, knowing to seek cover as soon as possible. His heart roared in his ears, full of the song of battle and his blood filled with the euphoria of their initial surprise ambush. The rifle ran dry with a click, the empty power cell at its base confirming it had been completely drained, and he ducked behind cover whilst pulling out one of the replacement cells from his pocket. He saw Anna whirl around to fire a few more shots before darting back, and Eugene had elected rather foolishly to kneel in the dead centre of the crossroads, firing with pinpoint accuracy. Blue projectiles zipped past, impacting harmlessly against the wall, though some found their mark - four defenders were hit as soon as they broke cover to fire, and they collapsed onto the inert bodies of those they had previously taken down.

"Frost to Harvester!" he yelled over the comm-line, "we have made contact with the enemy, and have successfully established a perimeter!"

" _Copy,"_ Kristoff called back, " _need reinforcements?"_

Jack tossed a look at Anna, who shook her head. "Negative, we're five-by-five for now. Plugging the gap."

" _Roger that. Keep up the wall - the Artemis is moving into position. We_ have _to hold them back."_

"Gotcha," Jack yelled, grinning as he tossed a few more shots down the corridor. "Hey, Pitch? Those Spartans, what happened to them?"

" _Do you really want to know?"_ Kozmotis answered, breathless as though he was jogging. When Jack indicated his agreement, he explained, " _The Persians found out about a secret path behind the Greek lines, so King Leonidas dismissed most of the Greek army while the Spartans and a few hundred others remained behind to guard their retreat. They were outflanked, and wiped out."_

Eugene groaned. "You had to ask..." he deadpanned as he casually dropped a clone by the stairs that had the ill fortune to break cover.

"Good thing we control the only way onto the ship then, huh?" Jack smirked, "no other way for them to-"

Almost as soon as the word ' _to'_ left Jack's mouth, the ceiling above them _exploded_ in a shower of sparks, smoke, metal chunks and asphalt. Jack's hands shot up to protect his face, the rifle careening harmlessly from his hands with the surprise movement and clattering on the floor, and Eugene narrowly avoided a piece of shrapnel destined for his thigh by diving to Anna's side.

And then clones started jumping down through the newly created hole in the ceiling.

The air was thick with the smell of cordite and the shocked cries of the defenders, some of whom were _so_ shocked that they inadvertently let their guards down, thus clones began to mass at the stairs and force their way through, trapping those in the corridor between them and the flanking troops. His ears ringing and filled with the muffled sounds of combat, second nature and adrenaline took over his body; he lurched to his feet and reached down for the discarded rifle when a clone trooper sporting an opaque black riot shield dropped down, and quickly put himself between Jack and his weapon, advancing unstoppably while others followed.

From experience, he knew that those riot shields functioned the same as the Valkyrie armor. Drawing his combat knife from his leg holster, he backed away a few paces while the soldier advanced, hidden behind his shield. Half-smirking, once the clone was far enough away from his comrades and once Jack had enough room, he sprinted at the soldier, leaped into the air and applied a heavy drop kick to the upper part of the shield. The clone lurched backwards with a surprised yell while Jack elegantly flipped backwards, landed with a graceful three-point and immediately charged again, this time using his full body to smash against the shield and force the clone backwards to the floor. Without sparing a second thought, Jack leaped over the fallen shieldsman and immediately engaged the rifleman behind him, using his free hand to parry away the barrel before it could get a bead on him and drive the knife into his neck. Blood spurting from the wound, the clone gurgled and crumpled to the ground like bodiless clothes. Moving forward, Jack then ducked under another rifle and slammed the knife into the next soldier's ribs, before cleanly sliding it out and flinging it at the shieldsman behind him. Having just staggered to his feet, the clone jolted as the blade embedded itself in his spine, and promptly hit the deck.

Had the situation not been so dire, he would have been rather impressed with himself, but with clones dropping in like an endless horde he had no time to think on it. With the corridors being too narrow to effectively wield his staff, he summoned small spikes of ice on his knuckles and advanced onward, driving his fists into any part of any clone in his way, desperate to link up with Anna and Eugene who, judging by the occasional _clang_ courtesy of Agatha and bursts of flame that reached the ceiling, were having problems themselves.

Three clones stood between him and the crossroads, where more poured in like an unending tide of water. Like a boxer he smashed a fist into the left side of the first opponent and promptly slammed his head into the wall, moved forward and throat-jabbed the second, sharply pushed him backwards before grabbing the clone's vest and yanking him towards a rather brutal clothesline that practically flipped him backwards. The third was dispatched with comparatively less of a flourish, a simple snap kick to the head.

The clone crumpled to the ground, leaving the way clear for him to ambush another headed for Eugene - and he _would_ have done that had the last person he wanted to see drop down from the sky above.

Snow Queen landed on the floor with the grace and skill of a cat, finishing in a perfect three-point to rival his own. She slowly rose to her feet, her masked face pointed directly at him - and it was then that he knew for sure...Thermopylae was lost. His breaths came deep and fast, his lungs burning with the exertion of combat on an already exhausted body as his chest rose and fell, and even through the searing ache in his head he knew that she had the edge - it was easier to wield a sword in such close quarters than it was a staff. If they tangled, she would win.

He caught Anna's eye over the chaos and violence in the middle of the crossroads. She stared at him with fear in her eyes, fear and anxiety exuding from those parted lips, completely and hilariously oblivious to the knife she had embedded in an unfortunate soldier's helmet. Men and women were pushed back, and dropped by a hail of blue bolts, some narrowly missing Eugene but mostly impacting harmlessly on the armor belonging to two of the other Valkyries that landed.

Snow Queen strode forward while her hand reached to the sword grip poking out behind her back. Jack's knees bent as he brought his bracer-arm forward in a defensive posture - maybe the collapsed staff in its housing could parry her attacks.

But then a blur collided with the menacing Valkyrie and tackled her against the wall, stopping just long enough for Jack to recognise the blur as the woman who held her rifle so tightly he wondered if it would break. The woman who, out of everyone, looked the most terrified - and there she was, an untrained civilian bravely pinning a skilled and well-trained Valkyrie to the wall with lightning cascading from her hands.

"Run!" the woman screamed, just as Snow Queen pushed herself from the wall and advanced, holding her hand ahead to block the arcs of electricity sent her way.

He hated it, doing what she said. Running, leaving them behind. "Fall back!" he yelled to anyone who possibly could have heard over the raucous din of pained and enraged yells, the zips of stun bolts or the clang of Agatha against Astrid's axe. He had to, though, and yelled the order to retreat through the radio, praying that Eugene and Anna had the good sense to obey.

Sprinting back and dodging the clones he personally felled, Jack reached out and swung behind the watertight door, waiting as long as he could for someone, just _one_ person to break through the swarm of clones descending through the hole...but there was no hope of that, only the sight of Anna and Eugene in the distance doing the same thing, as well as Snow Queen knocking out the woman who saved him with a well aimed punch. So, with a heavy heart, he closed the door, twisted the wheel as hard as he could to lock it, and hailed Kristoff on the radio.

"Frost to Harvester, Thermopylae is lost. I repeat, Thermopylae is lost."

* * *

Hiccup knew it to be true even before Jack said anything over the radio. Granted, he and Toothless were too busy racing at breakneck speeds to avoid the deadly bolts of red aimed at them by the once eight, now six _Einherjars,_ but he didn't see what it was that the crowd of clones were doing until it was too late. Troops filing through the main door, and dropping through the newly created hole in the _Star's_ hull. It pained him, in a way, that the old girl was being treated in such a manner.

However that pain was dulled by a rush of pride - Hiro had announced that the turrets were active and seeking targets, and not a split-second later four structures on the deck were spraying out red bolts at anything and everything that came close, cutting down drones with little to no issue, bringing down a few dropships, claiming another _Einherjar_ and even managing to hit the _Hammer_. It was unlikely that the monstrosity suffered damage in his engineering opinion, but still.

It was heartening to know that the old girl still had some teeth, and thanks to those teeth, the _Artemis_ was safely away, having shot from the port hangar door like a bullet from a gun, bound for _Sanctuary._ A century old, and she was still showing Unity how it was done. He was so proud.

Even if he had to practically kiss the sea to avoid being the turrets' next target.

* * *

"Damn it!" Elsa hissed as she watched Frost close the door, putting yet _another_ barrier between them. If only that silly woman hadn't interfered! She wouldn't be unconscious and Frost wouldn't be scurrying to safety like a rat.

"Valkyrie Leader!" a voice called out behind her. She whirled around angrily, and faced down one of the countless Alphas who, judging by the blood pouring from his wrist, had lost a hand to one of the defenders. "Are you hurt?"

She blinked at his question, and automatically checked herself, wondering what in the world he was on about. She felt no pain, no injury, and only the aching joints and burning muscles of combat. It wasn't until she noticed how her trench coat was _still_ smoking that she remembered what had happened - her armor had absorbed the literal lightning storm cascading from the random woman's fingertips, the slightly-too-warm temperature of her clothing serving as a further reminder. Had she not worn it, she would have been killed. "I am...fine," she answered curtly, "what's the situation?"

"We have established a foothold, and the _Hammer_ is continuing to drop troops, ma'am. However, turrets on the _Star's_ deck have opened fire on our dropships - Commander Larsen has ordered the drones to shield them, but they're being cut down like they are nothing. In addition, one of the doors has been locked from the other side." the Alpha explained, completely oblivious to his wound. Elsa glanced up through the hole at the sky, and spotted a dropship burst into flames after suffering dozens of red bolt hits.

"This one has been locked too," she concurred, jerking a thumb behind her, "but the middle corridor is accessible. Have some more breaching kits brought down for these two doors, and send your forces down the middle. We must keep pressure on them, unless we want them to regroup. My team will take care of the turrets."

The Alpha nodded vigorously and moved away to bark the orders at the legions of troops arriving. "Viking, Goldilocks, on me." she called through the radio.

Astrid was the first to arrive, with Rapunzel carefully navigating the fallen bodies behind her. "Orders, Snow Queen?" she asked, though the slight hint of mocking was still perceptible. Elsa disregarded it.

"Find whichever room it is that has whatever's controlling the turrets, and shut them down. Goldilocks, your task is to find their central computer, or whatever they're using for information storage. Take this data cylinder," she paused to pull a transparent cylinder from a pouch on her utility belt, "and download anything relating to the Ghosts. Safehouses, weapons caches, anything."

"Yes ma'am!" Rapunzel answered quickly, her voice distorted much like Astrid's, "but...how am I going to get there with all the defenders gunning for us?"

Elsa sheathed her sword. "It's simple, Goldilocks. You're wearing the energy-dissipation armor, correct?" she paused. Rapunzel slowly nodded, so Elsa then added, "Just walk through them."

Rapunzel uttered her acknowledgement, and jogged away with a dozen other clones down the middle corridor into the undoubted hail of blue bolts headed their way. Astrid swung her axe up onto her shoulder and casually followed, singing " _Run to the hills, run for your life!"_ quietly to herself as she walked.

"Seriously?" Elsa sighed, incredulous and more than a little irritated.

"What?" Astrid responded without turning, "It's catchy."

"Shut up…"

If it was even possible, the mischievous cackle that followed made her want to whack Astrid's head even more.

* * *

Neve had set herself the task of calming the evacuees and guiding them to their respective dropships, whereas Kristoff's task was infinitely more simple yet required a hell of a lot more legwork - locking and barricading all of the doors that led via stairs to the hangar deck from above, save for the ones at the hangar's bow, furthest away from the flight deck's island's watertight door. All he needed to do was close it, rip off the handle and ram one of the heavy crates against it.

Though it was simple, it was no less important - five minutes ago the named-by-improvisation position of Thermopylae was lost, and Unity troops were beginning to spread out throughout the ship. Slamming the last crate into position, he ran towards the bow doors and dragged ammunition and food crates into the middle of the deck for cover for the inevitable last stand, while the humming sound of the _Hera_ hovering into her designated spot on one of Hiccup's magnetic catapults fought with the scraping of the crates on the asphalt. Five ships to escape with the last being the _Fairy._ Time was running out, and he found himself recalling a conversation with Neve shortly before they set foot in the hangar for the first time that night - the defenders were untrained, barely qualified, with some having powers that were useless for combat. They were no match for the well-trained, armed, and single-minded clone troops, even _with_ the presence of the Ghosts.

It hurt. Each defender knew the score and the reality of the situation, but it didn't lessen the pain in his heart that over two hundred people were fighting a hopeless battle to save just over forty.

But then he remembered, it wasn't just forty, it was over a thousand. They stood between Unity and the hangar deck, sacrificing themselves for _Sanctuary._ Neve always said - the secrecy of their home was paramount, and more important than anyone's life.

The sound of panting echoed through the dark, red hued stairwell a few yards ahead. Scowling, Kristoff's head snapped up as he instinctively reached behind him for his holstered stun pistol...and breathed a sigh of relief when he laid eyes upon the angular, almost diamond-like face and brunette hair. It was only Eep's husband Guy.

"Kris, I just heard from one of the defenders near the briefing room - one of the Valkyries just...well...walked through their lines. Apparently she was apologising whenever she stunned-"

"The point, Guy. Get to it." Kristoff snapped.

"Oh! Right! Yeah, she's just turned down the corridor and headed towards your Uni-Com about fifteen seconds ago." Guy explained before racing off toward the _Apollo_.

"Shit…" Kristoff hissed, and shot a finger to his ear, "Harvester to Ghosts, anyone copy? Valkyrie headed to the briefing room. Whoever's close, intercept and neutralize. We _cannot_ let them near the Uni-Com."

" _Got it."_ said Eugene. " _What do you want me to do with the Uni-Com?"_

"Take that shotgun and tear it apart, Flynn."

* * *

Rapunzel closed the door behind her, both for secrecy and to shut out the yells and cries of combat, things that clawed at the thing she had desperately been trying to keep hold of ever since her parents signed those horrid papers...her soul. Her gloved hand on the door, she leaned against it for a second as she tried to catch her breath, and tried to shut out the expressions of surprise and terror on each person's face as she literally walked _through_ their barrage of blue bolts, unaffected.

Her helmet was stifling, constricting. It felt like someone had put her head in a vice and squeezed, creating aches and sore spots throughout her face and skull. With her free hand, Rapunzel drew back her hood and unclipped her mask, closing her eyes as she pulled it away from her face. The throbbing pain on the back of her neck courtesy of the one called Pitch Black briefly intensified, but soon dulled much like everywhere else as the cool air and freedom kissed her skin.

She took a moment to take stock of the situation - which was beginning to feel more and more like a runaway train. Behind enemy lines, an enemy that was constantly falling back under the superior might of Unity. Hating every second of it, but unable to do anything else. She pushed away from the door and ran her fingers through her brunette bob, revelling in the freedom offered by removing her mask - then she remembered her task, and as she opened her eyes and rested them upon the Uni-Com at the bottom of a set of stairs, with its white glass screen faintly glowing, she remembered what she had to do.

Descending the stairs with heavy, booted thumps - the slightly high-heeled, black calf-length boots would be rather sexy had they not been associated with the Valkyrie armor - she approached the communications device, eyeing it with wariness. Within it could contain the entire information nexus of the Ghosts, their safe houses, weapons caches, their _real_ names, everything. If she downloaded the data, she would hold in her hand the single greatest weapon against them. Stronger than Elsa's sword, Astrid's axe, Merida's bow or the Hammer's heavy cannons. Information can bring down governments, a single sword cannot.

For a moment, she hesitated just as one foot touched down upon the floor. In theory, she had a choice, and she knew it. Lie, and say she hadn't found anything - thereby protecting the Ghosts...and Zach. Commit treason by defying her orders. Unifier help her if Elsa ever found out...or, she could do what she was told.

Orders were orders, and though she was constantly uncomfortable with them, she was duty-bound to follow them...yet, if she was ever to face a trial of her peers, how far would that excuse carry her? Obedience vs choice, a tough dichotomy.

She shook the thought from her mind, and forced herself onward, because there was another way. Download the data, hide it, and lie. Maybe when the Purge was all over, she could use it to find the Ghosts and _somehow_ defect to their side once her Valkyrie tenure was over. But then again that was a risk in and of itself.

Rapunzel unclipped a belt pouch and pulled out the cylinder, feeling its impenetrable toughness in her palm as she clenched it into a fist. Her decision was made - she would play it by ear. Reaching over, she slid the cylinder into the receptacle, and waited as the device hummed into life and projected a light blue command request into the air before her. Pressing the _tactile interface_ button, she navigated with skilled and knowledgeable hand waves through to the _Download All Data_ option surrounded by a long blue rectangle, and without further thought she tapped on the world _All._

"Step away from the screen." a voice rang out behind her, accompanied by the metallic click-and-scrape of something being drawn.

Rapunzel's heart shot into her mouth with a gasp as she froze in place, fear shooting through her being. She knew that voice. She spent all night hearing that voice, after all - from lengthy talks to breathless moans of her name. "Zach…" she breathed.

"Step away from the screen, and hands up. I'm not going to ask again." he demanded with a growl, punctuated by the sound of his feet descending the stairs. Now that was a tone she had not heard before, and never wished to again. The tone of anger.

She obeyed. Her breathing rapid, she put her hands up into the air and slowly backed away from the Uni-Com, praying that he did not notice the download progress bar at the top of the floating images as it slowly increased to ten percent. "Okay, Zach," she said in a calming voice, "I'm backing away. Don't shoot."

She backpedaled to the left, and that was when she fully laid eyes on him - wearing the 'uniform' commonly associated with the team he was technically not a part of: black military pants with a black t-shirt. He pointed a strange looking weapon at her, not silver like the stun rifles nor possessing their customary thin barrels. This one was wider - and she could only assume it was a firearm from the pre-Unity era. Scowling, his light brown eyes radiated anger, and his lips were thin and tightly pressed. Clearly, he was not messing around, and Rapunzel was struck with the trembling thought that she could very well die at his hand.

He glanced to the holo-images at his right, and what came next was over in seconds, though she luckily had the instinctive forethought to cover her ears. His eyes widened slightly, and swung the weapon to point at the Uni-Com. Light exploded from the barrel four times, sending sharp vibrations through the floor and up into her body as she ducked down, shrieking in fear as she closed her eyes. He pumped the weapon three times between each blast, muffled a little by her hands but still deafening enough, and when he finished, there was a strong smell of something acrid in the air.

Slowly, almost reluctantly she opened her eyes and shot a wary look at him, noticing how the barrel of the weapon was still smoking even as it remained pointed at whatever was left of the Uni-Com, once a table and now a mass of shards and smoking, sparking remnants on the floor. She saw how his breathing came deep and fast, yet still his mouth remained closed. Silence existed between the once-lovers, with her still almost cowering and him standing proud and aggressively confident.

"Zach," she whispered, slowly straightening. Instantly, the rifle snapped back to her, aimed right at her head. She reflexively jerked upright but looked him in the eye, her heart beating with self-preservation-adrenaline and fear, fighting the urge to run yet overwhelmed with the desire to stay. "You don't have to do this, I'm...I'm no threat to you." she spoke slowly and calmly.

"But I should," he replied, his voice cracking and borderline bitter, "I should pull the trigger. I _should_ kill you right here, for my team and for _everything,"_ he said with his teeth clenched, "the Valkyries have done. My friends are _dead,_ and _you_ sent them on their way." The rifle twitched in his hands, almost as though he was trying to force himself to squeeze the trigger...but then his face relaxed from rage to grief, and the breath he had been holding was let loose. "But I can't. I could never hurt you. You're too...precious."

"Zach…" she sighed, and instantly surged forward to embrace him. It was the first thing on her mind...but then he backed away and held up a hand to stop her, shaking his head.

"Why?" he whined, "why did you have to be one of _them?_ Why did I have to feel this way about someone who…"

"You think I chose this?" Rapunzel cried, gesturing at her armor. "You think I _wanted_ to be a Valkyrie? I _hate_ what I am! What it's cost me…I had no choice…"

He scoffed. "There's always a choice, Rapunzel. Always." he said, his arms briefly lifting from his sides in exasperation. "Unity's got you and your team blind to that."

Rapunzel shook her head, and became distinctly aware of the trails of liquid heat on her cheeks, as well as the tightening of her throat. "You've got it wrong, Zach. We know there's a choice."

He uttered a single sharp exhalation of breath, like the first beat of silent laughter. "Well that makes it worse," he sneered almost disdainfully, "because it sounds like you _want_ to be here."

Her breath hitched as though he had physically hurt her - how could he think that? But then he followed up by saying, "...I don't believe that. I choose to believe in the woman in her apartment," he paused briefly, clicking something on the weapon and letting it fall to the floor with a sharp clatter, "who dreams of healing people and giving everyone a better quality of life, who paints flowers in her spare time," he continued as he slowly made his way towards her, "who made me feel like I could live forever. That for the first time in my life, I could look to the future with hope. I have to believe her. Not this Valkyrie. She's not _my_ Rapunzel."

She clenched a loose fist over her chest, the armor rising and falling with deep breaths that were starting to make her feel light-headed. It felt like the rug had been pulled from under her feet, first he stared at her with hate just before he destroyed the Uni-Com, and now there was a sort of...enchanted serenity about those roguish features, almost as though everything made sense to him and she was the key to it. Her heart swelled with each step he took. "Zach…" she breathed.

He surged like lightning, wrapping his arm around her waist. With a squeak, she felt herself be roughly pulled towards him, a second before she squeaked again as his lips crashed down on hers. Taken completely by surprise, she forgot how to respond for a few seconds before lightheadedness took the place of coherent thought, and her wide eyes closed to enjoy the bliss. Her lips moved as one with his while her hands snaked up around his head, entwining her fingers in his handsome brown hair. Lost in the moment, she would have done anything. If he only asked her to run away with him, she would have done. To hell with the Valkyries, with Unity, with their borderline insane leader Snow Queen. The shoe would be on the other foot, she knew as she moaned contentedly into the kiss, feeling his tongue play tag with hers, but maybe the Ghosts would see fit to forgive.

She pulled away slightly, if only to take in some well-needed oxygen, her lips raw and well-tended to. "Zach, I'm so-" she began, but was interrupted by a finger on her lips, a smile and his mouthing of the words " _I know."_ For a moment, it felt like the world had fallen away from her, with only the two of them to exist.

But then that moment ended, heralded by the sound of pained yells and barked orders coming from the corridor above. Both heads snapped towards the door they hadentered through, and Rapunzel inwardly uttered quite possibly a holo-book's worth of curses in frustration and fear. Her hands dropped to and clenched his upper arms, almost protectively. The defiance still lingered - she would fight alongside him if it came to it...but then she remembered that Astrid and Merida would likely be punished for her betrayal. Save one life, end two. "You should go," she whispered, "before they get here. I'll pretend you knocked me out." They exchanged looks, her eyes willing him while he looked like he didn't want to leave. "Go," she pressed, "I'll be fine. We'll meet again someday, Zach." she finished, standing up to capture his lips once more. Greedy of her, of course, but damn if she didn't miss that feeling already.

Exhaling deeply, he eventually conceded defeat with a reluctant nod. Darting back to pick up the weapon, he was about to sprint up the steps when he hesitated, staring at what she assumed to be the third chair to his right. "There's something you should know, Rapunzel," he declared softly, a second before surging back to place a hand on the back of her head and kiss her moaning lips once again. Any more of that and her legs would likely give way. "Eugene," he said once he had pulled away, stroking the back of her head with tender gentleness, "my real name is Eugene. Fitzherbert, technically, but you can call me Eugene."

He quickly kissed her once more, before tearing himself away and rushing up the stairs two steps at a time, leaving her to close her eyes and touch her lips with two fingers. "Eugene," she whispered to herself after she heard the clang of the door shutting behind him, followed by the muffled roars of his weapon, loving the taste of his name on her tongue, "I think I prefer it to Zach."

Of the things she expected to happen during the battle; meeting, reconciling with and passionately kissing the man she was slowly falling for was not high on the list.

But was she going to argue with fate? Hell no.

* * *

_**THE PURGE: IN PROGRESS** _

* * *


	27. The Purge: Snowfall (A Ballad of Ice and Fire)

" **The Purge: Snowfall (A Ballad of Ice and Fire)"**

The communications officer strode up to Hans' side as he stood on the plinth behind Drago's chair, watching the battle on the intangible viewscreen at the other end of the bridge. It was rather fascinating that the ancient vessel, long since abandoned after the discovery of enhanced unidium's energy supply capabilities, secretly sported four turrets that were adapted to fire anti-aircraft energy bolts and were currently switching between targets at an astoundingly rapid rate. For example, one turret had fired three bolts at a drop ship that had the misfortune to move away from the drone screen, and had then already switched to the swarming mass of drones before the former target had even started to explode.

"Sir, we've received a priority one message from New Arendelle," the officer stated quietly, almost sub rosa.

Priority One. The highest state of secrecy and encryption in Unity's intelligence and communications network. Reserved only for the very upper echelons, and considering that his brother was in Zone Fifty at that point in time and High Inquisitor Gothel had no reason to contact him, it meant only one thing - the Unifier himself.

"I'll take it in the briefing room," Hans replied plainly, meeting his hands behind his back. The officer murmured his acknowledgement before returning to his station, and with a last look at the sea of clones jumping down the flight deck's hole like black water down a drain, he swept away to the briefing room for some privacy.

The doors opened and closed behind him with a _ssht,_ shutting out the ambient white noise of the bridge activity, and as the Uni-Com's screen flickered with the words _Call Waiting…_ in the centre, he reflected on how indifferent he was to the fact that the _leader of Unity himself_ desired to speak with him. On the other hand, it was to be expected; Hans anticipated a conversation like this at some point during the skirmish, but for it to take place so early in the battle...if the Unifier was to command him to return the _Hammer_ to Unity territory, he would be duty-bound to comply. It all depended on the next few moments, and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel the unwelcome prickling of fear and anxiety sitting in his stomach. Everything he had built, all the plans he made could be reduced to ash.

"Uni-Com, answer priority one communication," Hans ordered, and strode over to between the table and the screen while the device obliged.

A man's face appeared in the screen's centre. Pixelated at first, it didn't take long for the myriad squares to shrink while the image sharpened to reveal a wizened looking man, with an obscenely wide nose and enormous spectacles - Hans often wondered why he had not taken advantage of ocular regeneration treatments, but put it down to pride, much like it was with Judas. Balding, the grey hair receded like it was fleeing his eyebrows, and an immaculately-kept brush moustache hid the pursed lips of irritation, but not the blue eyes regarding him with nothing less than stern disapproval. "Unifier Weselton," Hans greeted him, bowing his head with respect, "it is my honour to receive your message."

"Dispense with the pleasantries, Commander Larsen," the Unifier scoffed, "I have no interest in such sycophancy. What I _am_ interested in, however, is why you have taken our greatest secret off her designated course and straight into the Dead Zone? You know the punishment for insubordination is execution."

Hans inwardly groaned as he bowed his head, and tried to appear apologetic.. "Forgive me, Unifier. I have been attempting to contact someone regarding this matter, but it seems the _Hammer's_ errors have been more pervasive than I thought. I assure you, there is a reason for this."

Unifier Weselton peered at him over the rim of his spectacles. "I'm breathless to hear your explanation, Commander, and it had better be satisfactory."

"Yes, sir. A short time into her shakedown cruise, I received actionable intelligence regarding the abnormal resistance, intelligence that revealed how they were hiding and where. Ordinarily I would have contacted Supreme Commander Larsen for orders, but as he is on a family soiree in Zone Fifty and is thus unavailable, I felt it was imperative that I acted now, while our information was still fresh."

He cleared his throat and continued. Throughout the explanation, Unifier Weselton's face had not really changed bar the disapproving frown, which was a good sign. Continuing, he said, "I ordered the change of course, believing that any delay may cost us dearly and allow these rats to escape, even though we were undersupplied in terms of drop ships, fighters and troops. I was confident in our odds."

"And?" the Unifier prompted, and it was the subtle eagerness in his voice that made Hans smile.

"We have been remarkably successful. Currently my troops have boarded their base, an archaic Third War aircraft carrier. They have taken half of the first deck, and though they are encountering heavy resistance I am confident it will not be long until it is ours. Victory nears, sir." he explained, somewhat matter-of-factly.

"Interesting...and the _Hammer_ , how is she performing?" Weselton asked curiously while his mildly gnarled fingers stroked his chin. Hook, line and sinker.

"If you'll permit the turn of phrase, Unifier - like a dream. Unfortunately we are still encountering problems with the ship-mounted cannons, but the engineers assure me they will be fixed within the hour. In any event, the troops and aircraft have more than compensated for this." Hans said. His fingers began to feel constricted, so they worked to remove his gloves behind his back.

"But if the Alliance should get wind of your activity, it could mean a declaration of war, Commander. You are risking much for this victory." Weselton prodded reprimandingly. Hans nodded once in understanding.

"Indeed, sir. I am aware of the risks, and to that end our communications officer has been instructed to monitor their communications. If they are suspicious, we will know, and will leave immediately." he finished.

The explanation given, Hans waited patiently for the Unifier's decree. He could go either way, but Hans was enough of a people-watcher to know that Weselton was more likely to give his blessing to the attack than to forbid it, especially as the mission was already so successful. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, his old school friend once said. A flawed concept, but it had its relevant applications. Unifier Weselton studied him closely for a few moments while his jaw moved in thought, and his eyes occasionally flicked off screen. Eventually, he made a decision - and though it was predictable, it did encourage Hans to know that the most important man in their regime was behind him, if only tenuously.

"Continue with your work, Commander. I look forward to reading your report when it is over." Weselton nodded, and added, "For your sake, I hope it is a good one," before swiping across his screen to end the call.

Hans' Uni-Com reverted to its inert, transparent state. His smile falling like a stone, he clenched the gloves in his hands so tightly, his nails were liable to draw blood. "Insufferable cretin," he hissed, incensed.

A good one? He was lifting the Resistance into the air and breaking its back across his knee. There was nothing that could be better. What more could he want?

Moron.

* * *

Alpha Nine-Five led his squad of perfect likenesses through the bowels of the ship, rifle trained and senses alert. Search and neutralize. Search and neutralize. Walking slowly, purposefully, the trench coat batted against his boots as he made his way through one of the more complicated corridors of the ship where it zigzagged, and often came to an abrupt end forcing him to turn. It did not matter. Unity was unstoppable. Unity was law. Unity was _victory._

Yells from the end of the corridor reached his ears, gurgled screams of agony. Silently, he held a fist into the air, then three fingers, and finally pointed forward. Three members of his squad, Clones Eight-Seven-One, Four-Nine-Zero and Six-Six-Five obediently crept past him, muscular bodies tensed and their aim unwavering. Whoever was there, they would be taken down with prejudice. His squad was the best, or so the Birthing Master said. His squad would lead them to victory. For Unity and for the Unifier.

Eight-Seven-One and Four-Nine-Zero rounded the corner out of sight, with Six-Six-Five only a few feet away...then the enemy struck. A human-sized rush of fire burst from the corner and engulfed Six-Six-Five - his screams as he flailed aimlessly, trying to put out the head-to-toe fire that was consuming him, joined the howling of his two squadmates as they too burned to death out of sight.

Alpha Nine-Five emotionlessly signalled the remaining five members of his squad to move back the way they came, his eyes and rifle-sight trained upon the corridor that Four-Nine-Zero staggered out of before falling to the ground, his screams ceasing as the flames claimed him. Ignoring the stench of burnt plastic and flesh, they slowly, carefully moved backwards - he passed a small tunnel on the way, they could use it to flank the abnormal. Slowly, surely, they retreated, and then took that corridor before turning left. Six pairs of boots followed him, but no voices. Six.

There were only five members of his squad left. Not six.

Alpha-Nine-Five whirled around and prepared to shoot, but the last thing he saw was a corridor of pure conflagration, where the flames rose from the floor and licked the ceiling, searing his face and dazzling his vision.

And in the centre of the corridor, before a jet of fire ruthlessly consumed him and his squad, stood a solitary woman wreathed in flame, as though the blaze itself bent to her will.

* * *

Bent down, Kozmotis peered over Hiro's right shoulder as the young boy worked, sat on a stool and surrounded by archaic, century old computer systems. The sound of furious typing accompanied the green lines of code and calculations filling the boxy monitors directly in front of him, while another monitor to his right displayed rotating green images of the _Hela_ drop ships, drones and _Einherjar_ fighters along with their measurements, set against a black background. Stood in a room with ancient technology, like a room set in the past...and yet, Hiro had taken to it with little to no issue.

"Hey, Koz?" the young boy asked, his eyes straying not even once from the screen. "Unless you're a genius like me with code-writing and computers, which I'm pretty sure you're _not,_ you mind giving me some space? Kinda hard to work my magic with you, like, six inches away from my head."

The tall Ghost gave Hiro an unimpressed glare out of the corner of his eye, and straightened up with the grace of a lithe cat. "You may be skilled with software-"

"That is true." Hiro interjected abruptly.

"-and be the only person on the ship who can operate the Phalanx turrets-"

"That is also true." he did it again.

"-but it doesn't mean you can be so arrogant about it." Kozmotis finished.

"Sure," the young boy scoffed, "well, until you find someone as good as I am at quickly adapting these calculations so the turrets aren't shooting at Toothless, and writing a code to automate them, then bring 'em on up. 'Til then, you mind keeping an eye out? You're messing with my mojo."

Kozmotis growled under his breath, and his hands made a motion as though to throttle Hiro's neck from behind, followed by pretending to squeeze his head between his finger and thumb, and then finished by pretending to hit his head with something invisible and heavy. It was true, Hiro was far and away the most qualified and skilled crew member to deal with the software, but did he have to be so conceited about it?

Of course, the day that Hiro loses his arrogance is the day he grows up, and Kozmotis was resolved to keep that day as far away as possible. Innocence is a hard thing to keep in war, and war was on their doorstep. Judging by the sounds of shouting and pulse bolt shots not far away that rode the air into the turret room, closer than he thought. "Sounds like they're coming," Hiro observed nonchalantly as he hammered the keyboard some more.

Biting back the urge to administer a cutting remark, Kozmotis simply turned and made his way to step over the door frame, though couldn't resist indulging himself in a silent mocking repetition of Hiro's words, complete with his head moving from side to side as he pulled a face. Arrogant little brat. There were times that he wanted to literally beat some sense into him.

He wasn't wrong though; Unity troops were coming, but the acoustics of the ship's corridors in addition to the inherent humming screwed with his attempts to pinpoint _where_ they were coming from. Naturally this sent a rush of anxiety through his gut; the defenders posted in the corridor had moved forward to engage the troops that had broken through Thermopylae, leaving him all alone to protect Hiro. Which he would, until his dying breath...but one would hope that particular breath was far off in the future.

The lights flickered above his head with a soft buzz, intermittently bathing the corridor in darkness and then instantly washing it in bright light. Undoubtedly the secondary access point that Unity had created compromised the lighting system in his part of the deck, but it was rather inconvenient. Drawing his stun pistol, Kozmotis' brow furrowed as he listened out for any sounds indicating that he should start firing. Levelling it ahead of him, he slowly crept right from the doorway, occasionally switching to aim behind him before returning to his original direction...it felt like his little trip into darkness with Hiccup all over again.

But at least he had light, albeit after a fashion.

Footsteps echoed behind him, and with the fluidity and speed of a hunting cat he quickly revolved, levelling his pistol at...nothing but thin air. His heart began to race, intensifying the burning sensation around the cuts he suffered at the one he called Dorkeye's hand - or rather, sword. He calmed his breathing to slow and steady inhalations and exhalations, carefully creeping forward and not making a sound. It was obvious that a Valkyrie was nearby; subtlety was not a clone's strong point. The sound of running steps echoed again to the right, and he snapped his aim accordingly. Still nothing but air and flickering lights. Who could it be?

His answer came instantly when a pair of hands roughly grabbed him by the back of his T-shirt and flung him backwards, turning him just in time to smash his head into the wall. Pain exploded from his forehead, and his senses were dazed and jarred by the impact to the point that his vision was suddenly double, and all he could hear was bells. The hands struck again, this time driving themselves into his diaphragm with a brutal punch, winding him of all oxygen as he coughed his hurt out. Then they slammed into his back; hitting the floor with a thud, Kozmotis had the brief presence of mind to curse his lack of awareness at not having seen his attacker, and allowing them to get the drop on him so easily.

Their identity was soon revealed when a long cylinder-shaped object was pulled against his throat, forcing him to his knees. The object was pressed harder and harder, choking him. His mouth opened and closed as he gulped for air, hands frantically and pointlessly trying to pull the rod away and reach for the assailant's face. He could not gasp a single breath, such was the strength of the attack, and as black spots began to dance around his vision, and as his hands started flailing for the door leading to Hiro, he heard his attacker speak near his ear while he choked and sputtered - "This is for dislocating my shoulder, you bastard."

Viking, he thought bitterly, his mind pulsing with excruciating pain as it grasped for oxygen. Of course, it didn't matter now, he was going to die either from suffocation or a crushed throat. How cruel it was, that his last moments with Hiro consisted of attempts to squeeze his head...he just hoped that Viking would be merciful with the boy. Make it quick and easy, not prolonged and agonizing like his soon to come death.

Blue light joined the black spots, pulsing once...twice...or was it three times? He didn't know, he was close to losing consciousness...but what he _did_ know was that the pressure on his throat lessened by quite a bit, and survival instinct immediately took over. Second nature and reflexes drove his elbow into Viking's side with as much speed and ferocity as he could muster while he coughed and gasped for breath. She grunted in pain, and the pressure on his neck ceased entirely. He smashed his head backwards, and felt the impact of her mask on the back of his skull - though it had the desired effect of an agonised shriek, and the clatter of her axe to the floor as she fell back against the wall with a heavy thud. Free of her grip, Kozmotis fell to all fours as he hoarsely coughed, feeling the rush of glorious, beautiful, life-giving air down his throat and into his lungs, burning every inch of tissue it touched with a good pain. His senses came back to him as the throbbing in his head subsided, his vision becoming focused, and his vengeful rage consuming all.

Now, it was Viking's turn to die. She staggered to her feet whilst pushing herself away from the wall, one hand clutching at her mask. With a roar, Kozmotis surged toward her and tackled her right back to the wall. She let loose another pained grunt, and another when he aimed a fist in the dead centre of her tough armor. She instantly doubled over, enabling him to thrust a thigh into her mask and knock her back against the wall. Fury fuelled him, an unquenchable fury and thirst for vengeance, an uncontrollable desire to punish her for this attack both for trying to kill him, and for such a sneaky ambush. Without letting her recover, he used his hands to grab her flailing right arm and twisted it behind her, perfectly mimicking what he did in the depot. With a cry of pain, she fell to her knees and angrily hissed " _fuck you, Pitch!"_ while desperately trying to break free, ostensibly fearing the repeating of history.

But in true Pitch Black flair, smiling, he summoned two sand-tendrils to restrain both of her arms behind her while he stood astride her back. Placing one hand on her chin, he pulled back the hood and held the back of her head with the other hand. One sharp twist should do it. Right to left, her neck would snap...one Valkyrie down. More than thirty people avenged.

Including his friend Belle. Reading books, learning history...it just wasn't the same without her.

Viking struggled against her bonds and tried to wrench her head from his grip, yelling at him to release her. Smiling, Kozmotis uttered a low laugh as his arm tensed, and adjusted his grip so she couldn't squirm any more. "You hurt me. Marks for effort," he murmured near where he assumed her ears to be, "but not good enough."

It was when he looked up following a strange instinct to do so, however, that he felt his rage instantly and rapidly drain along with what colour remained in his grey-hued face...if only to be replaced by guilt and horror. Stood just outside the turret room doorway, clutching a stun pistol in a trembling hand, was Hiro. His eyes wide and unfocused, he was staring at Kozmotis but not really _seeing_ him, almost as though he and reality had become separate. He was white as a sheet, however, and Kozmotis could easily recognise the vacant expression as the thousand yard stare.

And then he understood - the blue lights came from Hiro. Viking was distracted.

He couldn't kill Viking in front of him. He felt reluctant to even knock her out. In past few minutes, Hiro had actually _seen_ violence, _seen_ hate and rage, and the intent to take someone's life on _both_ sides. The tendrils unwrapped themselves from her wrists, immediately followed by the releasing of Kozmotis' hand from the back of Viking's head as he roughly and coldly pushed her back to the floor. "Run, little Valkyrie," he threatened, putting himself between her and Hiro and extending his fist-blades for emphasis, "run back to your master...and tell her of how I spared your life...but if I see you again, I _will_ end you."

Viking staggered to her feet and rolled her shoulders, her head flitting between him and the young boy he was protecting. "You…" she spoke in that mechanical voice he hated, "you have children on board…"

For a moment, Kozmotis felt confusion add itself to the protective ire - how could they not know? He stepped forward, a silent reminder, and Viking snapped out of her stunned state. Quickly, she bent down to retrieve her axe and ran back the way she came, with Kozmotis watching her like a hawk the entire way. Once she had disappeared round a corner, he rounded on Hiro and dropped to his knees, his eyes wide with...panic as he snatched away the pistol, dropped it to the floor and grasped the boy's wiry arms.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Kozmotis chastised him, lightly shaking his body. Hiro blinked, his mouth parted while the glazed look yet remained. "Hiro! Answer me!" he hissed, "What were you trying to prove?"

"Uncle Koz…" Hiro breathed.

"That just because you picked up a gun, that you're a Ghost?! What was the matter with you? How could you be so stupid?!" he ranted. A lone tear slipped from Hiro's left eye, while his gaze sharpened, signifying his return to the world.

"Sh-she was going t-to k-kill you...I d-didn't w-w-want her to kill you...I had t-to stop her...I didn't w-want you to d-d-die…" Hiro stammered, his head slowly shaking from side to side. Everyone always said Kozmotis didn't have a heart...but he did. And he felt it crack. "I'm s-sorry…"

"Oh God…" Kozmotis breathed, and pulled Hiro close to wrap his arms around him. Dainty, fourteen-year old hands held his neck, and he could hear the light sounds of sobbing on his shoulder. "You have nothing to apologise for, Hiro. It is me who should be sorry." he murmured. "I've tried to protect you from evil and shelter you from hate and violence, from death. A child should not witness such things, should never have to pick up a gun...and you did, to save my life. I am sorry, Hiro, that I could not protect your innocence. I failed your aunt, your brother...and you. I am so, so sorry."

Hiro squeezed his neck, and whispered, "It's okay, Uncle Koz. We're alive."

Kozmotis smiled, and stroked the messy hair at the back of Hiro's head. "Yes, we are. Come, it's time you went home." he said softly. With one hand reaching for the stun pistol, and the other holding Hiro close as he held onto the Ghost's neck, Kozmotis rose to his feet. With Hiro carried in one hand while the other clutched the pistol tightly, he made his way to the hangar deck while Jack's voice rang out over the P.A, issuing a taunt to Snow Queen.

The _Hera_ had already left, with the _Athena,_ the _Aphrodite_ and the _Apollo_ to go.

Hiro's flight was on the _Athena_ , and Kozmotis would be damned if he missed it.

* * *

Having returned to his original position on the plinth behind Drago, Hans was observing a three-dimensional blueprint of the abnormals' ship while countless blue dots and four yellow dots spread themselves throughout the ship, advancing some moments and not moving for others, when the chime of the internal communications system sprang to life, indicating someone had a message for the bridge. Grunting with disdain - Drago made no effort to hide his distaste at the chosen sound effect - the hulking captain growled an order for the connection to be established. Hans wondered if the man even knew how to be respectful or polite.

"What is it?"

Evidently not.

" _Chief Engineer Jones, sir - reporting that the deck-mounted medium cannons will be operational very soon!"_ was the bright but slightly terrified answer.

"And the heavy cannons?" Hans asked.

" _We're still having trouble with them, sir, but we aim to have them operational within the next half hour!"_

Hans glanced at Drago, who looked at him with a knowing expression. "Thank you, Chief Engineer. Keep us posted." he thanked the man, and not one second later another chime signalled the end of the communication. "As soon as they are active, Captain, I trust you know what to do?"

Drago curled a slow, menacing smile.

* * *

" _Hey, Snow Queen? You want me, come and get me. I'm all hot and sweaty for you. Just follow the pretty, pretty lights and you'll be in a winter wonderland. Like, Alice, but less insane. Kisses!"_

Frost's taunt still echoed in her mind despite it ringing out across the ship over ten minutes ago, and if she was honest she could have done without the childish snickering over the radio from her team-mates Merida and Rapunzel, although Astrid remained oddly quiet save for inexplicable mutterings about a child. The battle must be getting to her, Elsa reckoned. Staging grounds and military bases like the Ghosts' ship were no place for children.

With both her pistol and sword drawn, Elsa trusted her instincts as she made her way through the first deck, ignoring the sounds of combat echoing throughout the aging beast's metal corridors. From what she could piece together from the radio chatter, the defenders were fighting tooth and nail but were being forced back and back, all retreating in the same direction. She stepped over the unconscious bodies of clones and abnormals alike, ignorant to them and focused on only one direction, listening to her gut. If it said left, she went left.

" _Hey, I've got a song for you, Snow Queen. You know this vengeance thing? Maybe you should_ let it go-ooooooo, let it go-ooooo!"

Elsa screwed her eyes shut and willed her ears to ignore Frost's latest taunt. How easy it was for him to infuriate her. His immaturity, his inability to take combat seriously...though when he nearly killed her on the flight deck, she had to begrudgingly admit that the cold look in his eyes and the sheer resolve scared her a little. Had Astrid not intervened, her mission would forever remain incomplete.

As her gut told her to round a corner to the right, she wondered how Anna would have taken it, and the sight took her breath away.

The corridor was covered in a thin sheet of ice from floor to ceiling, and throughout the ice little frost ferns had been drawn, creating an elegant and...beautiful picture. Snowflakes that seemed to give off their own glow hovered in the centre of the corridor, creating a breadcrumb trail that took the left turn. "Pretty, pretty lights…" she murmured. Reluctantly, she conceded - there was beauty in Frost's powers. Entrancing beauty. She stood for a while, pistol raised and sword drawn, admiring the scene...but then remembered _who_ was the artist.

She stepped forward, gingerly, carefully, intent on not making an ass of herself by slipping on mere ice. Aside from the fact she could break her neck on the door frames, she didn't know if Frost was watching. Her breathing steady, a stark contrast to the adrenaline and anticipation flooding her veins courtesy of her racing heart, she followed the trail of snowflakes as they turned left, signposted _Mess Hall_. Her eyes darted to every single spot in the corridor ahead, looking for the slightest movement or reflection, while her ears tuned out all but the most out of place sound - which was easier said than done, considering the entire environment was alien to her. Taking measured steps, she approached the slightly-ajar door to the Mess Hall, and came to a stop just before it. She tensed her left arm and gripped the pistol with renewed tightness, while her right forearm rested across her left, holding the sword horizontally across her. She took a moment to calm herself, to centre her being by taking measured breaths and counting down - this was it. She knew it.

Her left foot lifted up and carefully pushed the door open...seeing…

...nothing.

The mess hall was empty, huge but void of life, save for the hundreds of tiny snowflakes floating lazily in the air. Dull artificial light filled the room, casting _more_ eerie shadows than it chased away. The centre of the room was filled with uniformly identical tables, sporting muted grey chairs attached to the tables' framework that perfectly mimicked the grey floor, and pillars dotted the room to support the heavy air vents and various pipes attached to the ceiling. It didn't look too far removed from the _Hammer's_ mess hall or the _Staging Ground's_ many cafeterias, and a strange sense of familiarity tickled at Elsa's mind. Some things change, she mused to herself, and some things stay the same.

Clearly, however, Frost was not present. She stealthily crept inside, snapping her pistol's aim left, right, behind her, at any place she could be ambushed. That was Frost all over, distraction and ambush. Cowardice.

"That's cheating, you know." a voice echoed throughout the room, issuing a painful reminder that though she checked everywhere in front of and behind her, she did not think to check the ceiling. "Bringing a gun to a knife fight. I'm insulted. Not exactly honourable."

She stiffened, and silently cursed her oversight. "And you would know all about honour, wouldn't you?" she retorted acidly. "Murderer."

There was the sound of fabric moving at high speed, and the almost imperceptible sound of boots touching down behind her. Fingers tightening around the blade's handle, she fought down the urge to charge. "Aww, that hurts." Frost taunted. "You know, I think your whole vengeance thing is just a cover, 'cause you're jealous of me."

"And why's that?" she indifferently humoured him, waiting for him to come closer...though he was that quiet, she couldn't be sure if he had even moved.

"Why? Because I'm better than you." he taunted, and she could practically _see_ his smirk. Slowly, she turned around...and indeed, he was smirking even as she levelled her pistol at his head.

Elsa sighed. "At what?"

His smile fell, and a dark look crossed his face. " _Everything."_ he chuckled, almost menacingly. "We abnormals, we're stronger, faster, tougher. See, I'm not the one with the gun."

Elsa's eyes flicked down to the reflective chrome pistol aimed squarely at his head, and back up to his eyes. Uttering an uncomfortably loud exhalation of breath through her nose and feeling the heat as it bounced back onto her lips, she relaxed her pistol hand, boasted, "I don't need a gun to take you down," and tossed it aside.

Frost issued a throaty chuckle as the weapon clattered away, and his hand moved over to the bracer on his right forearm. "That's more like it. I wanna see the great Elsa Snowfield, see what it is that Streak admired so much."

The mention of Anna had the dual effect of hitching her breath, in addition to intensifying the burning anger inside her - how dare he mention her. "That's the last time you'll speak about my sister, Frost." she threatened...and tried not to think of his use of the past tense in ' _admired'._

He snorted. Plucking the staff, he stood with his left side facing her as the staff shot to full length, held along his arm in an echo of the first time they fought. For a moment, she debated charging straight in - but her mind cautioned her against it. She was in _his_ territory. He was fighting for his survival, so she needed every edge. Straightening up, she threw the sword to the ground where it embedded into the floor with a metallic thud, pulled back her hood and let her trench coat slip down her arms, revealing her figure-hugging black body armor. She then reached up to the back of her head and unclipped her mask with one hand, feeling the cold air kiss at her skin while she tossed it away, glaring myriad daggers at him. She then bent down and yanked the sword from the ground, and held it perfectly upright with both hands across her chest as she positioned her left side towards him.

Frost whirled the staff around him, and finished with his left hand out towards her while his staff was held horizontally behind him. Aggressive stance, she noticed, rather than the defensive posture in the Depot. "Well then," he smirked playfully, "shall we dance?"

Elsa let loose a yell as she charged, aiming a horizontal slash at his chest as she passed, parried away by Frost as he whirled around. Using her momentum she slashed again at where she thought his spine to be - to her irritation, she hit nothing but air - before using the sword to block a downward strike aimed for her head. Their eyes never left each other, even as she pushed against the staff and forced him back with a grunt. They circled each other, like a violent display of courtship, her sword pointed at his face while his hands hooked themselves around the staff on his shoulders.

"You do know only one of us is walking away from this, Frost. Meaning, me." she taunted, half-smirking at him. He cocked his head and frowned slightly.

"If you say so," he said, "but if you kill... _me!_ " he blurted the last word as he pointed one end of the staff, still resting on his shoulders, and shot a bolt of energy. Elsa spun, sidestepping it comfortably. "...isn't it going to screw with your happy sisterly... _reunion!_ " he shouted, charging forward as he pulled the staff down and swung for her stomach. Anticipating this, Elsa took a leaf from his book and evaded it with a rather impressive butterfly kick, finishing with the sword held defensively across her chest and her right foot set back, while Frost rested the staff on the top of his right arm and shoulder while his left hand was held toward her.

"She will understand. Not that you will be alive to see it!" she snapped, then rushed towards him.

She lunged the blade at his gut, a strike he dodged by bending to the side, and swung the sword around her head at his neck. The staff came up to block and then parry aside her slash, which she anticipated, enabling her to use his momentum against him by whirling round and slashing diagonally upwards, bottom right to top left.

A pained hiss broke out as he staggered back, his head turned away as his hand shot up to his cheek. Drawing the sword horizontal and level with her face, Elsa smirked as she watched his fingers move away, the tips stained with blood. Frost glanced down at the liquid red, and scowled when his eyes flicked up to her. "Okay. Fun time's over. Let's go, princess." he snarled.

Elsa moved her head just in time to avoid a blisteringly fast staff-jab to her face, then ducked as he tried to swing it against her head. As fast as she could, she brought the sword up and attempted to embed it in his neck, but he swiftly parried it. Fluidly turning, he stood with his back to her while he twisted left and right, applying a vicious one-two strike with both ends of his staff to her sides, and followed up with a back-kick that she barely managed to block in time.

Stumbling back with the impact, she side-stepped a downward slam of the staff courtesy of a momentum boosting roll in the air, and winced at the piercing clang of metal on the shiny floor. With both hands she swung the sword up towards his neck, something he avoided by twisting sharply to the right and whacking the sword away, yet she converted the motion into a whirl that narrowly missed his abdomen. Sensing her advantage, Elsa stepped forward, aiming swing after swing; a strike at his neck followed by a swing at his feet as he stepped onto the back of a chair with _annoyingly_ perfect balance, something he avoided by a backflip onto the table. Elsa jumped onto a chair and followed him up there, moments before launching into a series of blisteringly fast one-handed slashes and stabs that were constantly blocked, parried or dodged but constantly pushed him back. He swung the right end at her head. Ducking, she grabbed the staff with her left hand to stop it and thrust a knee into his back. Yelling in pain, Frost arched his back and left himself wide open for a slash at his arm, something he just about managed to evade yet still nicked him in his right bicep. Smirking at her second victory, Elsa kept up the pressure by swinging too fast for him to do anything but defend, forcing him back and back until he reached the end of the table.

But then the advantage was ripped away. As soon as he appeared to topple backwards, Elsa seized the chance and lunged for his neck...and in her moment of victory, she forgot that one of Frost's things is to show a weakness, then snatch it away and viciously counter the inevitable attack. Which he did. As her arms surged forward, Frost appeared to fall backwards - but in reality he launched into a backflip that carried one of his boots into her hands. Hissing in pain, Elsa felt her stomach hit the floor as the sword was literally kicked from her grasp, where it flew through the air and embedded itself in the wall behind him.

Frost was not done, however. As soon as he landed, he applied a vicious set of three strikes - one to either side of her body and a third jab to her chest - followed by a fluidly graceful sweep of the staff against her feet. Her world sharply went sideways when her legs were swiped from under her, and a pained shriek escaped her throat when she rather ignominiously and roughly fell onto the table with a heavy thud. Groaning, she opened her eyes just in time to roll out of the way of a downward slam of the staff against her head. The momentum carried her off the edge of the table and onto the seats, where she quickly - and awkwardly, given the new bruises she sustained - lifted herself up and crouched into a forward roll off the last seat. Her feet touched the floor, and instantly she broke into a sprint toward her embedded sword. If she could get it, she thought, then maybe she could reclaim the advantage and end him.

But then her world went awry once more; as soon as her right foot touched the ground when she was almost at arm's reach of her weapon, she slipped and completely lost her footing, cursing in horror in the split second it took for her to hit the ground. It was a wonder that her head did not impact the floor, thanks to her hands splaying out to protect her.

Dazed by the sudden tumble, she awkwardly drew her left knee under her and pushed up from the ground, wincing with the pain blossoming in her wrists from the rather informal landing - but when she tried to lift her right leg in order to scramble to her feet, she discovered with confusion that it was stuck. She whipped her head around to see what it was that kept her bound to the floor - and noted with horror and a sharp gasp that it was...

"Ice…" she breathed. Grasping her leg, she grunted with the exertion of trying to pull herself free, cursing her daze as well as the thickness of her boots preventing her from noticing the cold creep of ice before it was too late. Not to mention the patch of it under her feet.

A shadow moved across her vision, ceasing her struggles. Attracted by the movement, her eyes followed Frost's legs as he moved to her side, close enough to be heard above a murmur yet too far for her to take a swing at him. He crouched, planting the staff like a tree into the ground. He tilted his head, casting her a mocking smirk. "See, _that's_ why we don't lick the street lamps in winter." he chuckled tauntingly. "Ice. So treacherous."

"Fuck you, Frost." she hissed, glaring. He merely emitted another low chuckle, before rising to his feet. She continued to attempt the art of setting him on fire with her eyes even as he so _brazenly_ turned his back on her and walked to the sword protruding from the wall. "You'd know all about treachery, wouldn't you?" she spat.

Frost rounded on her. "You know what, Snow Queen? I'm getting a little tired of this crap, so pin your ears back so that for once in your life, you can take something on board." He gestured with his staff, pointing it directly at her head. "We. Didn't. Kill. Your. Parents. We don't kill civilians."

His staff-arm dropped, and then turned back to the sword's handle. Slowly, Elsa's left hand crept around her body to the small of her back, where a combat knife was sheathed in the utility belt. "Tell that to the security footage." she spoke.

Frost emitted a humourless laugh. "Right. 'Cause Unity never lies." She watched as he laced a hand around the blade's handle and yanked it free with a teeth-jarringly loud scraping of metal on metal, and Elsa felt the tiny familiar flicker of doubt. "You call me a murderer, yet it seems to me that your quest to get to me has killed more people than I have."

The flicker of doubt returned - had he said it before the museum conversation with Jafar, Elsa would have automatically dismissed it as treasonous nonsense. Now…

Not to be assuaged, her anger reasserted its dominance over her, as though its pride had been damaged by the doubt. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked the million credit question. "Because if you are, kindly get it over with so I don't have to listen to your voice anymore."

Frost's eyes switched over to her, and he wore an expression she couldn't quite place. Was it pity, or fury? Sadness? Slowly, he made his way back towards her, and all the masks he wore fell away to leave nothing but the coldest expression of all, one that remained even as he rested the staff on her left shoulder and crossed the blade over it to the right, creating a scissor around her right carotid artery. One small slice and she would end, her life spilling out in torrents of crimson. On the other hand; if she was quick enough, a well-placed stab between the fourth and fifth rib would pierce his heart. If she was to die, so would he. Her hands tightened around the knife's handle, while she stared hard into his rather striking blue eyes, and watched how his brow dipped and rose, and heard his breaths as they came much too calmly. Silence existed between them, an electrifying void that that held within decision and hesitation.

"I'm not gonna kill you," he finally said. Elsa frowned, not least at what he said but at something she noticed - he wasn't looking at her, rather _over_ her, "because you're related to someone I would gladly give my life to save. Someone whose opinion I care very much about."

Elsa jumped when, having pulled the blade away from her neck, he threw it to the ground where it wedged itself into the tiles, trembling with the force he applied. "She's all yours, Anna." he announced, and promptly turned away to stride off to the door. Elsa's eyes widened while her breath hitched; especially when true to Frost's word, Anna's voice softly swam over. He paused at the door to listen.

"Snow White's waiting for you to say goodbye, Frost. She's at the _Apollo."_

He nodded solemnly, and stepped through the watertight door. For a moment, there was a flashing urge to chase after him and bury the knife in his spine, but...Anna's presence drained her of the ability - and the desire - to move. Not to mention the ice. The door closed with a low clang, its sound echoing through a room so silent, a pin drop was an explosion.

"Anna…" Elsa murmured as heat blossomed around her frozen leg. "I didn't expect you to see you after…"

The constriction disappeared, allowing her limb to revel in the newfound freedom by being brought up to under her chest so she could rise to her feet. "Yeah, well," Anna sighed, "soon as I heard Frost over the ship's P.A, I knew where you'd be going. I knew you'd try to kill him...which is kind of the problem. Elsa," she began, pausing briefly. All the while, her younger sister was stood at her back, but there was a stern tone to Anna's voice that bade Elsa to turn and face her...and when she did, Anna stood tall and proud, arms hanging loose at her sides but her fists clenched, an expression of unwavering resolve upon those once buoyant features. "If you want to kill him, you'll have to go through me."

Elsa stepped back an inch in surprise. "Anna, he's not what you think he is."

She slowly shook her head. "I've spent about three years cooped up in this place. I've fought him. I've fought _beside_ him. I think I know what kind of a person he is, Elsa."

"No, you don't!" Elsa protested, her head tilting slightly. She had to understand. She _had_ to. "Anna, do you know our parents are dead?"

The reaction that followed, completely pulled the rug from under her feet. She expected a widening of the eyes, a parted mouth, a gasp of shock and _possibly_ tears. What she got, was _nothing_. No reaction. Not even a blink. "Yes," Anna answered, explaining everything.

"Do you…" Elsa tried to continue, suddenly void of the wind in her metaphorical sails, "do you know that the Ghosts killed them? Frost, the one called Pitch...and Harvester, they murdered our parents?" she persisted. The anger, the vengeance fueled her to step forward. "Did they tell you that?"

Anna frowned, shaking her head. "No, they didn't…"

Renewed, Elsa stepped forward again. At last, she could see. Now she would understand. "Tell you? Of course not, they've been lying to you for-"

But then Anna interrupted her, with something she was _not_ expecting. Well, she was - but in terms of denial, not outright refusal. "No, Elsa, you don't get it. They didn't kill Mama and Papa." she murmured, stepping back.

Elsa pressed, determined to convince Anna of the truth, to get past the wall of lies and denial. "Yes, Anna, they did! I saw the image, I saw Frost's face!"

"You're wrong, Elsa. It wasn't them - because Frost and Pitch were too busy rescuing _me_. From the people _you_ work for." Anna spoke low, firm...and oddly threatening.

Elsa blinked, and murmured, "...what?"

Anna turned away. Bowing her head, her arms wrapped themselves protectively around her chest. Elsa wanted nothing more than to rush to her and sweep her up in her arms...but the way Anna was holding herself gave her pause. "That night...was the night I bloomed. Frost and Pitch saved my life, Elsa. He has done nothing but be there for me every step of the way _._ He's my best friend."

Anna's entire stance seemed to relax slightly, but Elsa could easily pick up on the defensiveness exuding from her younger sister. Anna was not comfortable around her, that much was certain, and it _hurt._ One day, they had been embracing and giggling. Now, she was maintaining a healthy, distrustful distance between them. "Killing him?" she murmured incredulously, before turning to fix Elsa with pained bemusement, "You should be _thanking_ him." she finished, not before adding, "not becoming a Valkyrie to hunt _us_ down."

Elsa automatically surged forward. Her heart was a mess of emotions; pride and stubbornness in her mission, how she had trained and trained, led battle after battle for that moment. Yearning and longing for her sister, regret at the missing six years of their relationship...and then there was the doubt. The familiar, creeping sensation of uncertainty that had been present ever since the car journey to the shipyard. Love for her sister and hate for Frost. Not to mention a strange sense of nausea. She closed to within two steps; she was so close…all she wanted to do was hold her.

Anna recoiled and backed away, holding her hands in front of her, her expression close to _scared_. Elsa flinched at the abrupt denial, feeling her heart twinge. "Anna, I'm still your big sister!" she pleaded.

"Are you?" Anna's question was sharp and armour-piercing. Elsa's mouth parted a little in shock at both the tone and the content. "My sister...the Elsa I remember was kind. Caring. She stayed up all night with me to make sure I got my Math essay just right. Always gave me her last cookie. Told me that no matter what, we would be sisters forever."

"We can still be-" Elsa blurted.

"She would never have...become this. Look at yourself, Elsa, at what they did to you. Look at what they made you _give._ This woman standing in front of me," Anna paused to give her the up-and-down with her hands, an expression of what hurt Elsa to discover as _disappointment_ on her freckled face, "I don't recognise her."

Elsa gasped, taking a step back as though Anna had physically hurt her - which, judging by the sensation of a dagger in her heart, she had. How could she think that? She was the same Elsa as before she was locked away. She was just stronger, faster, tougher. Less naive and innocent, and more realistic and angry...oh…

...but she wasn't the only one that had changed.

She swallowed down through the newly formed lump in her throat, sliding her bottom lip between her teeth and allowing it to slip back out, trying anything to distract from the burning sensation in her eyes. She was always vulnerable where Anna was concerned. The younger sister stared at her expectantly, as though willing an explanation. A good reason. Elsa had none to give, so chose to let her heart do the talking.

"I missed you, Anna. I missed you so much. Every day, I thought of you, and how it killed me to shut you out. I'm sorry...I had no other choice."

Speaking softly, calmly, Elsa took a tentative step forward, and noticed with relief that Anna did not retreat. So far, so good.

"I wanted to tell you, but...I couldn't. That hurt me the most...please, come with me. Let me make it up to you."

Another step forward, another inch gained. She was so close. "We can take the _Valhalla._ You and me. I'll...I'll dress you up in a clone uniform! We can...we can leave here together! Sisters forever, remember? I'll resign my post, we can be a family again! Just you and me."

She was within arm's reach. Anna's arms wrapped around her chest once more, but she still didn't retreat, only gazed at her with shimmering, child-like eyes. "We can start a new life somewhere! Just relying on each other, and _never_ be apart again." she assured softly, spreading her arms as one would for a hug, smiling in spite of her pain. "Do you want that?"

A single tear slid down from Anna's eye. Slowly, tentatively, Elsa moved her thumb to brush it away, while their eyes never wavered. Her mouth opened, and Elsa's heart quickened in anticipation.

"I want that more than anything, Elsa." Anna whispered. Smiling widely, her own tears reflecting both sadness and joy, Elsa took the last step forward and carefully wrapped her arms around her sister.

It felt one-sided, awkward, uncomfortable...but _amazing._ Finally after six long, heartbreaking, soul-rending years, Elsa was able to embrace her younger sister. Feel her under her hands. Revel in sisterly love. She closed her eyes, content to enjoy the sensation she had been craving for so long.

"But I can't."

Opening her eyes, Elsa's stomach fell. She hoped, she _needed_ Anna to say yes.

Anna pulled back, and looked up at her. "I'm a Ghost, Elsa. I've built a life here, I have a _purpose._ I have a _husband."_ she sighed in disappointment, slowly shaking her head. Almost as if to confirm it, Elsa's eyes flicked down to Anna's left hand...where a silver wedding band was indeed present. "I can't abandon my people. I'm an abnormal. This is who I am."

Her hands falling to her sides, Elsa dipped her head and screwed her eyes shut. Of course - how could she think it would be so easy? Even if she might have been right about Frost - which she doubted - Anna clearly had roots here.

"You could always come with me, Elsa. I'm pretty sure I could convince the team to let you…" Anna suggested - but it was half-hearted. Almost as though she wanted Elsa to say yes, but knew there was no chance of it ever happening. Throwing a stone at a tank hoping it would blow up, but knowing it was impossible.

"I can't. If I...if I desert my team, they'll be harshly punished. I don't want that to happen to them."

A quiet yet long exhalation of breath streamed from Anna's nose, a non-verbal sign that she received the answer she was expecting. Her lips slowly curled, but it was a humourless and sad smile. "Then I guess there's nothing left to say."

She bowed her head and turned away, and as Elsa watched her leave with panic in her heart and resignation in her stomach, she saw how Anna's right arm moved up - and wondered if she was wiping away any tears. "Anna, wait!" she blurted abruptly, just as her younger sister pulled open the door with a prolonged metal scraping, nearly drowning out the sad sniff. She did not wait. She stepped through, without turning back. "Don't do this, please!"

Anna continued to walk through the corridor Elsa had passed through not long ago, unconsciously melting the snowflakes as she walked by thanks to sheer proximity. "Don't walk away, not now we just found each other!"

Anna paused in the middle of the corridor, her breathing deep and controlled. Still, she did not turn. Why wouldn't she turn? Why couldn't she look at her elder sister? Did she even know how much this was breaking Elsa's heart? "We were so close!" she pleaded brokenly, "we can be like that again, just come with me! Don't leave…"

"I'm sorry, Elsa." Anna said softly, turning her head just enough to be clearly heard, yet not enough to look into her eyes, "You know I wouldn't do this if I had any other choice..."

Flames burst into life around Anna's hands. Elsa stumbled back in surprise, and felt her heart quicken in fear - was she about to attack? Would Elsa even _defend_ herself?

"...but they're my family." she finished.

For a few seconds, Elsa felt like she had been punched in the gut. It was a horrid feeling, like she was redundant. That the six years apart meant that she was being _replaced,_ no longer needed by her own sister. She clenched a loose fist over her heart, and tried _so, so_ hard not to choke a sob.

But then Anna took a single step forward and thrust her hands in front of her in a sweeping motion, finishing with her wrists crossed above her - obediently, the flames on her hands rushed forth at the edge where the floor met the walls, charged onward for at least thirty feet, and rushed up both of the walls to engulf them and the ceiling in a literal corridor of fire - one ostensibly created to keep Elsa at bay.

Anna walked on, casually, calmly, unharmed by the crackling and searing heat curling around her, head held high and resolute. For a few moments Elsa was in total awe of her sister, that a force of nature was subservient to her will and desire. It was...beautiful.

But then the words echoed round her head, reminding her.

" _...but they're my family."_

As Anna rounded the corner and disappeared, Elsa's heart spoke for her in a sad, nostalgic half-whisper.

"...so am I…"

* * *

Hiccup flattened himself against Toothless' back. Streamlined. The key was to keep their combined shape as aerodynamic and streamlined as possible. The dragon's body dipped and rose with each beat of his leathery black wings, growls fuelling each flap. Up they flew.

It was a risk, sure. The whole damn point of all the barrel-rolling, loop-the-looping, sudden braking and mind-bendingly sharp turns was so the five remaining _Einherjars_ didn't get a bead on them, even if Hiccup had spontaneously developed motion sickness and a strong desire to throw up over the side. Not to mention being just on the right side of passing out.

"Keep going bud, we're almost there." he encouraged Toothless, who yowled and promptly banked a sharp right. The altimeter in his goggles' interface rose and rose, its numbers jumping by three each half a second. Four thousand meters. Just another kilometer to go. Another kilometer of freezing cold air and the sensation of his stomach trying to burrow its way to his feet.

It was when he had looped under the _Hammer_ that he worked it out - it was one thing for the airborne colossus to be able to cut through the interference, even if it oddly hadn't used any of its visible weaponry...but why were the fighters practically perforating him? When a bolt of red literally singed the hair on the right side of his head, it not only gave him the fright of his life but also a theory - what if the _Einherjar_ fighter group's targeting systems were linked to the _Hammer?_

What if the drones were, too?

The sensation of his stomach being yanked from pillar to post was subsequently combined with the iron heavy weight of dread - that meant the four dropships already in flight could be tracked through the Dead Zone _all the way to Sanctuary._

"Almost there, bud!" he wheezed.

Hence the steep climb.

"Now!" he yelled - or at least attempted to.

And the sharp dive.

Seconds before Toothless let gravity take effect, Hiccup slotted the hooks under each of his flight-bracers to the saddle and prayed his safety harness would hold - and that he wouldn't be ripped from his friend and fall to his death. Toothless shrieked loudly and proudly, folding his wings close and turning the both of them into a bullet that shot down from the clouds. Hiccup felt the blood be pulled away from his head to his feet, joining the majority of his organs that were trying seek the same solace. The altimeter's numbers dropped like a stone, and he didn't dare lift his head up lest it be snapped back to his shoulders by the force of air rushing past, a good recipe for a broken neck. His head became lighter and lighter, his vision grew cloudy just after his buddy became incandescent and blue, and prayed to anyone that was listening that Toothless remembered what he was supposed to do before his rider passed out - at the last moment, shoot one of his concussive fire blasts at the dish perched on top of the _Hammer's_ control island near the stern of the ship. The turrets had done nothing to the monstrosity's hull, so Hiccup reckoned that with enough speed and force, Toothless' blasts could do it.

The _Hammer_ grew closer and closer, and Hiccup nearly blacked out thanks to the G-forces just as a bolt of blue shot from Toothless' mouth, a second before the obsidian dragon zipped over the _Hammer's_ deck and hugged the sea, turning the already stomach wrenching motion into something like _bye-bye-digestive-system._ His head wobbling with straddling the line between consciousness and passing out, Hiccup carefully craned to look behind him, and smiled at the pillar of fire erupting from the _Hammer's_ control island. It was worth it, and maybe now Toothless didn't need to play dodge-monkey so fervently.

But then he frowned - why was the flying carrier's port thrusters firing to push her away from the _Star?_

* * *

Kristoff impatiently gestured for the last of the evacuees, four women and three men, to haul ass to the _Apollo._ It wouldn't be long before the clones pushed the defenders back into the hangar deck, and the quicker that the dropship was away, the better. Casting a glance left at the _Apollo's_ embarkation ramp, he watched Jack huddle over and embrace Neve in a warm hug, something she returned with every inch the motherly grace she always did. She pulled back if only to cup his head and pull him down to kiss his forehead - and it reinforced Kristoff's belief in exactly what they were fighting for; not just freedom, but love and family. Abnormals were still people, even if they could punch through walls, manipulate fire or ride dragons.

The evacuees quickly boarded the _Apollo._ For the fifth time that night, Kristoff hurriedly made his way over to the booth where the magnetic catapult's activation switch was located, and regarded his second-in-command and his leader with a watchful gaze, waiting. Jack and Neve rested their foreheads together, before he stepped back and bowed his head, holding his right fist over his left breast as a sign of respect. Neve reciprocated the gesture, smiling warmly, and then swept up the ramp and inside the _Apollo's_ black passenger hold. The embarkation ramp rose with a metallic groan, prompting Jack to take several steps back, though he still wore the expression of nostalgic love, before turning on his heel and sprinting toward the hangar deck's entrance corridors intent to rejoin the fight.

" _This is Guy, and his trusty co-pilot Eep. Everyone's buckled down and comfy as a sloth pretending to be a belt. We're ready, Harvester."_

"Copy that," Kristoff smiled. The last ship.

" _Igniting forward thrusters,"_ Guy announced. The four rotary engines swiveled ninety degrees into position, and blue jets of propelling force burst out from their ends, straining the ship against the magnetic catapult like a horse pulling a mountain.

"Slingshot in three," Kristoff counted down, "two, one...mark!"

He carefully pressed the red button, and the _Apollo_ shot through the port door like a bullet from a gun in the blink of an eye. He knew from testing that it was extremely uncomfortable and felt like he was going to become strawberry jam on the closed embarkation ramp, but it consistently gave the heavy dropships one hell of a head start.

The _Star_ violently lurched as the sound of four muffled explosions in quick succession reverberated through the hull and the night air, and gasping in shock Kristoff threw his arms out for balance to stop him from hitting the floor.

"The hell just happened?" he shouted over the radio.

Hiccup was the first to respond, and by God did it ignite a deep sense of fear. " _Do_ not _send out any more ships! I repeat, do_ not _send out any more ships!"_ the dragon rider yelled over the comms, an uncharacteristic panic in his cadence.

"What are you talk-"

" _The Hammer just took out the turrets! All of our turrets are gone! I repeat, all of our turrets are gone!"_

Kristoff's stomach hit the floor, weighed down by dread and fear. The Phalanx turrets were the single line of defense protecting the drop ships from the fighters…

...and the drones.

"Oh God…" he breathed in horror, just as his eyes fell upon Neve's red headband cast forgotten on the hangar floor near the catapult.

* * *

The _Apollo_ rocked sharply, jostling Neve against the two women either side of her so violently that both of her shoulders issued an angry pain in complaint. The cabin turned red, accompanying a piercing _weep-weep_ alarm that sent a wave of worry and panic throughout her body. Maybe this was a result of the less-than-graceful exit of the _Star?_ She knew from osmosis that dropships were resistant to stress, but she wasn't sure that Unity had the instantaneous force of magnetic catapults in mind.

"Shit…" she heard Guy hiss.

Neve hurriedly unclipped her harness and stood, holding onto the rigging on the _Apollo's_ ceiling for stability. Carefully, she made her way to the cockpit, where Eep was cursing under her breath as she pressed several buttons to navigate through the internal computer system.

"What happened?" Neve asked, swaying with the movement.

Guy did a small double take in surprise, the microphone headset wobbling with each movement. "Oh, one of their cannons just clipped us." he tried to reassure her. Eep, however, looked much less calm and was about to apply a strong fist into the diagnostic screen when Guy shot out a hand to stop her. Eep huffed, folding her arms while Guy fiddled with the very same switches with one hand, flying the ship with the other.

"Looks like we're okay so far…"

Neve breathed a quiet yet dignified sigh of relief.

"...wait…"

And then her breath hitched.

"Shit, I was afraid of that." Guy sighed, flopping back onto the pilot's seat in resignation.

"What?" Neve asked worriedly.

Guy gestured half-heartedly to where a holographic, orange-hued blueprint top view of the _Apollo_ hovered in the dead centre of the dashboard. A small square situated between the representation's wings was flashing agitatedly, and a line sprouted off it toward some text too small for Neve to read.

"The power regulator's been hit." he explained grimly.

"My engineering knowledge is limited, Mr. Crood. What does that mean?" Neve persisted.

Guy pinched the bridge of his nose, though Neve got the impression it was less out of exasperation and more out of dread. "It means that if we keep going at full speed, the power distribution system is going to overload, and we'll tear the ship apart before we even get halfway. I'm going to have to throttle us back to seventy-five percent speed so we don't blow up."

Seventy-five percent speed didn't sound so bad. "Will we still reach Sanctuary?" Neve asked hopefully, jostled forward with the inertia while the ship quite recognisably slowed down.

"Oh yeah, definitely." Eep chuckled humorlessly, "thing is," she paused to gesture to the small screen just below the holographic diagnostic projection, "so will they."

Neve's eyes flicked down, and her heart sank. "Oh my God…" she breathed, watching over a hundred drones jostle each other like an angry swarm, their visual sensor lights glowing red like insectoid demons. It was like the screen was _filled_ with a cloud of death, heading straight for them.

"Yep," Guy agreed solemnly, "the top speed of those little bastards is two-forty miles per hour. A _Hela's_ top speed is in the low three hundreds, but…"

Closing her eyes and exhaling quietly, Neve finished his sentence with a resigned air. "But you were forced to reduce our speed."

Guy nodded slowly. "Bingo. Our speed right now is two-thirty-eight."

Neve didn't know why, and if she was ever asked she would not be able to give a reason why, but she smiled and let slip a bitter, dark chuckle. Of course it wouldn't be easy. She would be quietly crying if the situation wasn't so hilariously pointless.

"Something amusing you?" Eep questioned, tossing her an incredulous frown over her shoulder.

"Yes, albeit morbidly," Neve said, her titters dwindling. "On the one hand, we could push the _Apollo_ to her limits, but we'll be destroyed. On the other, we could continue on to _Sanctuary_ at our current speed…"

It was Guy's turn to half-smile and chortle to himself, attracting another incredulous and irritated glare from his wife Eep. "Way ahead of you," he nearly laughed, "I get the joke. Best case scenario, they catch up to us and kill us all. Worst case-"

"We lead Unity right to our doorstep…" Eep breathed, the 'joke' finally dawning on her.

Guy nodded, and then instantly shook his head in dark mirth. "We're fucked either way."

Neve stiffened, adjusted her grip on the rigging and placed her other hand on the back of Guy's chair. All trace of mirth had gone, leaving only acceptance and resolve. She inhaled a strengthening breath, and spoke the words she hoped she never would. "Then this is where our journey ends." Turning back, she met the fearful and anxious gazes of the eleven men and women, apparently fully aware of what was happening. It broke her heart; she was _supposed_ to keep these people safe. To ensure their freedom and safety. "We cannot let Unity know where our kind is hiding. If they discover _Sanctuary,_ they will tear it apart. Everything we have worked so hard to protect, everything we have built will be razed to the ground."

The evacuees exchanged worried glances with each other, but the atmosphere slowly changed. They knew what was coming. Of course they were scared, who wouldn't be? The sands of time were running out...but they were beginning to accept it there was no way out.

In amongst the regret, the guilt, the shame and the heartbreak...Neve felt a sense of _pride_ as she turned back to the pilots.

"When you're ready, Guy," she quietly commanded, lifting her chin, "kindly bring the _Apollo_ about, and fly us straight into the swarm. If we are to die, it will be on our own terms."

Guy adjusted his position and scratched his forehead. "Copy that...but what about the _Fairy?_ If those things are still in the air when she takes off, they'll swarm her."

"Oh God," Neve breathed, the realisation dawning on her. She hadn't thought of that, but soon images of the _Fairy_ spiralling into the sea, on fire and in pieces filled her head. Sounds of the Ghosts screaming in agony before their horrific deaths filled her ears. Thoughts of Jack, who looked to her as a mother, in pieces. "Is there...is there anything we can do?"

Guy smiled. "I was hoping you'd ask that. I can bypass the parallel power distribution system that separates the rotary cannons from the propulsion, and let them feed off the main fuel cell."

Neve looked expectantly and curiously down at him. "What will that do?"

"Means we'll be able to fire the cannons, but we'll overload the power twice...maybe three times as fast. When that happens…" he paused to click his fingers for theatrical emphasis. Typical Guy. "...boom."

Neve bent forward slightly and swallowed in anticipation. "How large an explosion, enough to destroy the swarm?"

" _Oh yeah,"_ Guy said almost proudly, "and _then_ some."

Neve ordered him to do it, without hesitation. Guy immediately started fiddling with some more switches, and the holo-interface zoomed in to where slowly pulsing blue lines spread from the flashing square to all four engines, as well as a red line that forked at the nose beginning from the cockpit. He flicked two more switches, and then rested his fingers on a reflective black square just to his right, before slowly stroking up. In response, the red line faded out of existence while another blue line traced itself upwards, and then forked at the nose just like its red predecessor.

"Okay," Guy sighed. He adjusted his position in the chair, checked his harness to ensure its firmness with one hand while Eep did the same, and then held the control column with one hand while gazing resolutely out of the window. "Hold on tight." He warned them, before yanking back on a lever to his left.

Neve tensed her arms, just before the sound of the port engines rotating reverberated through the cabin with a quiet rumble. Thrusters firing, the _Apollo_ sharply turned left on a dime, hard enough for everyone to suddenly take a sharp intake of breath and lurch to the right while Neve nearly left the floor. The _Apollo_ whined and groaned at the out-of-nowhere reversal of direction, clearly not designed for such violent course changes. The world outside the cockpit whipped by from left to right, and once she was pointed with some slight overshooting at the oncoming swarm, Guy shoved the lever forward, and held the control column still and steady. In the distance, Neve could easily make out their wounded home, where fires raged in place of four turrets.

It didn't take long for the radio to burst into life. Wincing, Eep carefully removed her headset and passed it over to Neve, who almost reluctantly took it from the Amazon-like woman's hands and mounted it over her head.

Hiccup's voice was confused and panicked. " _You've turned around. Why have you turned around?"_

Jack's voice then followed, and it was his tone that pricked and stung her heart. " _She's done what? Neve, what's going on? Why aren't you running?"_

Neve sighed, and closed her eyes. It was inevitable that Jack would protest, that he would panic...but she hoped she wouldn't have to explain why. "I'm sorry, Jack. We've sustained damage...so we are going to clear the way for you..." she spoke softly, trying to ignore the pain in her throat but unable to hide the crack. "...but I'm afraid I won't be there to welcome you home..."

" _What...Neve, please don't do this! Night Fury, go save her!"_ Jack practically shouted. Almost instantly, Hiccup predictably indicated he was on his way.

"Hiccup, you will do no such thing. Maintain a safe distance, do you understand?" Neve ordered. When Hiccup protested, she added firmly, "That is an order, do you understand?"

Hiccup's voice came back quiet, meek and small. " _Understood."_

" _No! Fuck...I'm heading to the hangar bay,_ I'll _come! Just give me some time!"_

"No, Jack!" Neve nearly shouted. "You are needed on the _Star!"_

" _But why are you doing this? You can't…don't leave me.."_ Jack whimpered over the radio. Neve's heart began to break - he was always so jovial, so upbeat, even during the attack. For him to sound like a little boy lost…

Guy yanked off his headset and tossed it aside, and then muttered, " _on my mark. Three...two...one..._ mark" just before Eep thumbed a button on her control stick. Red lights burst like thousands of torpedoes toward the cloud of drones, causing miniature explosions inside the mass that preceded _some_ of them dropping out of the air. Soon after, the feminine voice of the ship's AI began to count down.

_Warning - fuel cell overload in progress. Catastrophic reaction in twenty…_

"Jack, you have to understand. If those things follow us to _Sanctuary,_ we lose _everything._ I've told each and every one of you - the secrecy of our home is more important than the lives of any of us... _myself included."_ Neve explained, swallowing past the pain in her throat.

" _But…"_ Jack tried, but she quickly cut him off.

"Please, Jack. I don't want my last moments with you to be filled with an argument. Respect my decision. Allow us to make this sacrifice, so _you_ and your team can live. Please, Jack. For me." she pleaded with him, begged him.

She could almost hear the anguish in his voice when he responded, " _...okay…"_

_Fifteen..._

"Thank you," Neve smiled. Sniffing, she wiped away her tears. Sure, she accepted her death was inevitable...but if only it wouldn't hurt so much, feel like her heart was being torn apart. "Kristoff, you have been an invaluable leader. I want you to carry on the fight. Free our people."

" _I will."_ Kristoff replied, his usually smooth and strong voice cracking and gravelly.

_Twelve…_

"Anna," Neve addressed her, "you are the heart of the team. Don't let the horrors of our world diminish your spirit. Don't give up."

Anna's response was borderline tearful. " _You can count on me, Neve. Thank you."_

_Ten…_

"Eugene," she began, but a mischievous thought overcame her in lieu of the minor mental block as to what to say, "...I found a bone in my smoked mackerel this morning. Do be more vigilant."

Eugene almost laughed, even though it sounded like cracked glass. " _You got it, Snow. I'll work harder on my boning."_

"Language, Eugene." Neve reprimanded him, chortling in spite of the situation. The drones were almost within firing range.

_Seven…_

"Kozmotis," she smiled, "our history is our future, and I can think of no other person who I would want to protect our past. Please remember, though, that there is still good even in these dark times."

" _I will try."_ Kozmotis answered solemnly. Even though he was trying to control his tone, Neve had spent enough time listening to his history lectures to detect the waiver of emotion in his words.

"Hiccup," she addressed him, "hold onto your moral compass. Let it be your guide for the trials ahead."

_"You can count on it, Neve."_

_Four…_

"And Jack?" she addressed him, just as bolts of red punched their way through the cockpit and into the rest of the ship. Guy and Eep convulsed violently in their seats as red lights punctured their bodies, and then slumped forward. Some even penetrated her body...but she was strangely oblivious to them.

" _Yeah...mom?"_ he answered, barely loud enough to hear.

_Three…_

"You are the son I never had, but always wanted." she choked. No point hiding her grief now.

_Two…_

"I love you so much." she declared, as the cockpit was filled with drones and the _Apollo_ was torn apart around her, sparks and crackles filling the air.

" _I love you too."_ Jack instantly whispered back.

_One…_

"Goodbye," she muttered, closing her eyes to embrace the sweet nothingness of death, "my son…"

And then...oblivion.

* * *

 

_**THE PURGE: IN PROGRESS** _

* * *

 


	28. The Purge: As the Stars Fall

" **The Purge: As the Stars Fall"**

Even behind the safety of the intangible viewscreen spread across the front of the bridge, Hans still had to squint - such was the dazzling brightness of the explosion in the distance. Drago had made the mistake of ordering the view magnified to see precisely why the abnormal aircraft had changed course to charge directly into the swarm, and was markedly enlightened when the screen was filled with blinding white light that even took the dark grey decor of the bridge a few shades lighter.

"Report!" Frustrated, Drago barked out an order.

Immediately, the officer in charge of manually controlling the drones cycled through his small holographic screens on his workstation to the left of the captain, until he found one that he needed, one that was filled with hundreds of red blinking dots. "Sir, all drones have been destroyed."

" _All_ of them? Every single drone?" Drago questioned with a perceptible hint of incredulity.

"Yes, sir. That explosion wiped out our entire wing."

Hans had to hand it to the abnormals - they were courageous. It didn't take a military tactician to deduce that, having been clipped by a lucky shot courtesy of the medium cannons, the craft had circled around and detonated its fuel cell in the heart of the drone swarm. A shining example of self-sacrifice, they chose to completely cancel out the _Hammer's_ best way to intercept escaping craft since the signal dish had been destroyed.

How brave...and utterly futile.

"Status on the cannons, Lieutenant." Hans smoothly but quickly asked - Drago looked like he was going to rip off the poor lieutenant's arm, beat him to death with it and repaint the bridge in a lovely shade of claret.

"Sir, according to the engineers they should have the middle port cannon operational within the next fifteen minutes." the brunette engineering officer answered quickly.

"Why only the middle one?" Drago growled.

"They've been encountering problems with synchronising the power system with the cannon's capacitors. They say activating more than one cannon could cause a critical power feedback surge and overload the ship's power system, though there's a chance of it happening with just one," the officer explained, though hastily added when quailing under Drago's scornful gaze, "...a _small_ chance, sir."

"Calm, Captain. One is more than enough." Hans chuckled, and then twisted to address the raven-haired tactical officer stood by the holo-table at the rear of the bridge - the man designated to study the attack, "Status on the incursion?"

"Reports from the Alphas say they are pushing the abnormals back towards what looks like the ship's hangar bay, but are encountering heavy resistance." he said, slowly moving his hand to revolve the holographic hovering three-dimensional blueprint of the ancient vessel. Hundreds of green dots symbolising the clone troopers filled the hologram, with four yellow dots to signify the Valkyries, each one moving in different directions.

Hans smiled. Everything was going smoothly and to plan. "Excellent. Victory nears."

* * *

That was it, then. There was no more to be done.

Four successful launches had infused Kristoff's purpose and determination with buoyancy and, dare he say it, hope. The clone army had been slowed to a crawl thanks to the maze of corridors familiar only to the crew, and despite the odds being against him Hiccup had displayed once again that, in the air with Toothless, he was a pilot with no equal or rival.

Then the unthinkable happened like a sucker-punch out of left field - their leader Neve was dead, passing in what Hiccup described as a blinding sphere of light. For the second time in less than six months, guilt plagued Kristoff like an unwanted companion. He was the one who pushed the button and sent the _Apollo_ to its destruction.

Screwing his eyes shut, he willed himself into locking the pain away. He was the leader, technically the leader of the _ship_ with Neve dead and Fiona hidden away in _Sanctuary,_ so he had to compartmentalise. Focus. Function. The team was looking to him for orders.

And those were for a last stand.

"Harvester to team," he said in a low voice heavy with exhaustion and the absence of spirit, "fall back to the hangar deck, and tell whoever's left to fall back too. We'll make our stand there."

Eugene and Pitch both indicated their acknowledgement over the comms, but it was Anna's reply that sent a chill of worry amongst the hopelessness. " _Negative! I can't find Frost!"_

"I'm on my way."

* * *

It was official: that night was the worst of Anna's life, or at least ranked highly up there. Probably nestled snugly in between her sister's spontaneous disappearance and her ordeal on the night she bloomed.

In the space of less than a few hours, she had found her sister alive and well after unknowingly attacking her, and wearing the uniform of those they were supposed to run from. Then she had no choice but to refuse the possibility of a reunion with Elsa, despite every fiber of her soul crying out for the familiarity of sisterly love and physical touch.

And to top it off, in the most heartbreaking twist of fate, the woman who Anna looked to as a parental figure with the absence of her real parents was gone. Her soft voice over the comms one second, and static the next...

...followed by the most gut-wrenching sound Anna never wanted to hear for the rest of her life - the anguished roar of Jack's one-word-denial, full of rage and pain and grief. If she wasn't hurting enough before, the pain was altogether magnified by the knowledge that her best friend was in absolute hell; confused, despairing...and enraged. It was his emotional state that fuelled her need to navigate the corridors and link up with each pocket of resistance that were just about holding back the tide, whilst lending a hand with her flames or her knives where she could. As it turned out, her arrival at the second furthest defensive position on the port side - a narrow corridor that led towards the hangar deck - was impeccably timed as the three defenders, two men and a woman, were down to their last few shots and getting ready for fisticuffs. One jet of flame later, and they were boosted with a few of Anna's spare cells and a ton of morale.

Nevertheless, Jack had not left her mind, and so far, no-one had seen him.

Kristoff's voice spoke out from over the comms, sudden enough to make her start as she jogged her way to the final port-side position, head whipping to and fro as she checked every single place a person could hide. " _Harvester to team - fall back to the hangar deck, and tell whoever's left to fall back too. We'll make our stand there."_

"Negative!" Anna practically yelled in worry, "I can't find Frost!" Like hell would she fall back when he was still out there, alone.

Just as Kristoff indicated he was on his way, she rounded the corner to the last checkpoint. Four remained there, one man and three women, only one of whom still wielding a rifle with the others bent at funny angles on the floor, next to the mass of clone bodies that had ostensibly been bludgeoned to death with them…

...and one or two with the tell-tale patches of ice on their chests.

"Jack…" she breathed.

The male defender turned with a start, fists raised, and instantly relaxed with a heavy sigh of relief when he recognised her. How curious it was that, having stopped by all the other checkpoints that were engaged in a firefight, this one was quiet enough to key up its occupiers. Instinctively, Anna reached behind to the sheaths on her belt and drew her knives.

"Jeez," the man hissed, "I thought you were a clone…"

Anna cocked an eyebrow. "I'll try not to take that personally. Anyway, have you seen Jack? Was he here?"

The rifle-wielding woman chirped up this time, but did not turn around. Rather, she was sensible and kept her attention on the T-junction ahead. "Yeah but...he went that way," she gestured with the weapon toward the empty corridor, "he looked...I dunno, man. Never seen anything like it."

The second woman added her thoughts, "Whatever he heard on the radio sent him berserk. Picked up one of the rifles and just...walked towards them. Didn't give a shit about them returning fire. Only reason it's so quiet is 'cause o' him. Was like he was possessed. What happened?"

Anna's gaze moved up to the corridor, where trooper after trooper lined the floor like some kind of morbid breadcrumb trail. "We lost Neve." she said quietly, her eyes falling.

"Seriously?" the male said, jaw floored, "Shit, no wonder he went off the reservation. Kept yelling something like ' _is this what you wanted, Snow Queen? For me to know what it's like?'._ Any idea who he's talking about?"

A muscle tensed in Anna's jaw. "It doesn't matter," she said abruptly and curtly enough to cause the man to look taken aback, "what you need to do is pick up what rifles and power cells you can and get back to the hangar deck. If you see Kristoff, tell him where I'm going. "

Almost instantly, the four defenders quickly went further into the corridor and began rifling through the pockets and belts for the small orange cells, with the rifle-less woman berating the man for not thinking to do it earlier, and the man retorting something about Murphy's Law and clones arriving. "And where's that?" The third woman asked, in the middle of contemptuously kicking a clone's leg.

Anna walked off without answering, choosing instead to focus her energies on surefooted steps through clone bodies. Besides, how exactly do you tell someone you're about to try and calm a winter storm?

She thought about it as she drew further and further away from the checkpoint; she had never seen Jack in grief or fly into a rage, beyond receiving the news of their friends' fates at the hand of the Valkyries. Maybe on some level it was the acceptance that it was an occupational hazard, and while it was hard to accept someone's passing in the line of duty, if there was nothing to be done then that was it. Move on, and make the bastards pay when you next get the chance.

But Neve was a civilian; she had only just become proficient in wielding a pistol under Anna's tutelage. She wasn't a soldier - and that meant it was different, especially when it came to his connection with her. That would have made the pain almost too much to bear.

She turned right at the end of the corridor, and felt her breath catch in her throat - something that wasn't solely attributed to the sharp drop in temperature that turned her breath into wispy clouds of vapour. To a degree, she felt her heart clench in horror as, illuminated by a flickering and buzzing light, over a dozen clone soldiers lay lifeless and slumped over the floor, walls and knee-knockers. Some sported patches of ice on their chests and necks, while others were the owners of eight-inch long icicles protruding from their faces, hearts and pretty much anywhere else. Blood sprays coated the wall like grotesque crimson art in addition to pooling on the floor, and the heads of some troopers were not facing where, biologically, they should have been.

For a second, Anna would have wondered if she was trying to find Kozmotis, had it not been for the layer of frost coating the walls and melding with the blood.

Following the lifeless bread crumbs while forcing the images of Jack possibly being captured out of her mind, Anna took the first left turn where the lighting was mercifully far more stable and less inclined to instigate migraines. More bodies adorned the floor like morbid human carpeting, and feeling a rush of self-conscious isolation Anna drew her knives up in a defensive posture, poised and ready to lash out at any enemy that crossed her path.

And one did...albeit unconventionally.

A few yards ahead, grunts and yells preceded a clone flying out of the corridor to her right, harshly impacting the wall and crumpling to the ground. Initially startled, Anna drew her right knife back and made to quickly dart over and finish him off, but then Jack stormed out of the corridor hunched and unstoppable like a force of nature. As the clone struggled to his feet, Jack's hand lashed out and grasped him by the throat - which was where the superior strength of an abnormal was displayed by the soldier being lifted into the air a foot from the ground and pinned against the wall. Frozen in step by the unfolding scene, Anna's gaze moved from the struggling clone to Jack...who wore a mask of hate and rage upon his usually cheeky face. She shivered - whether due to the plummeting temperature or the sight she didn't know. The clone jerked and thrashed against Jack's grip, his attempts to free himself dwindling as the seconds went by - and even a few yards away, Anna could see the creeping of ice around the soldier's neck.

Another clone charged out of the corridor and hit Jack on the shoulder with the butt of his rifle...but the Ghost didn't flinch. Rather, it seemingly did the trick of enraging him further; letting the pinned clone drop with palpable contempt, Jack's left arm lashed out and slapped the rifle aside. As it clattered to the floor, he slammed his elbow into the second clone's helmeted face, grabbed his black vest as he staggered backwards and then began to mercilessly pummel the helmet over, and over, and over again.

"Jack!" Anna found the strength to yell, paralysed by the sheer fury radiating from her friend - but with clenched teeth, roars and grunts, Jack was oblivious to her. His strikes rained down again and again, and soon he was just punching a corpse - the helmet's visor had shattered and the clone had stopped moving fifteen seconds ago.

He was lost in rage, but Anna was never one to back down. Sheathing her blades, she charged forward to the one-sided fray, yelling his name at the top of her voice, but it wasn't until she hooked her arm around the crook of his right elbow and felt the chilly heat of his skin that he finally ceased. His head whipped around. Glaring furiously at her, she could tell that the man whose arm she was hooked around was not himself, simply lost in the spiral of grief and anger.

She met his gaze fearlessly as his chest quickly rose and fell - she was not scared, for as berserk as Jack appeared to be, she knew he would never hurt her. "I think he's dead," she panted, putting all her strength into holding his arm back, "but if you want to waste time turning his head into paste, you go right ahead!"

And then the rage, bit by bit, seemed to fall away from him. His arm relaxed and felt heavy against hers, and a quick glance to his knuckles revealed welts, scratches, tiny shards of a helmet's visor and blood. His face, once taut with fury, reduced itself to confusion and loss - and where he breathed with the fuel of anger, he panted. He looked fucking _exhausted._

"Anna…" he murmured, his brows knitting together. It didn't take her being his best friend to know what he was thinking.

"I know, Jack."

"She's gone…"

"I know," she sighed, and quick as a flash unhooked her arm and looped it around his neck to pull him down into a hug. He didn't respond at first with his arms loose at his sides, but felt heavy against her shoulder, like all of his strength and will had left him. "It's okay," she murmured - and that was when he finally fisted the material of the vest on her back and whimpered into her shoulder. "But she wouldn't have wanted to see you like this, would she?"

Jack almost imperceptibly shook his head. "No…"

Anna smiled, her eyes closed. "No. So, you know what? I'm going to ask you the same question you asked me upstairs. Are you with me, Jack?"

She felt the lightest of chuckles against her shoulder. "Yeah. I'm with you."

"Jeez, remind me never to piss _you_ off."

Anna gave Jack one last squeeze before turning to meet Kristoff, who was busy regarding the legions of clone corpses either side of him with a slightly disturbed eye. Glancing back at Jack, she saw how his swollen, reddened eyes shone with shame as he looked down to the floor. "Kristoff…" she said, groaning a reprimand.

* * *

" _Bear, report."_

In the process of stalking the corridors, body hunched and arrow nocked, Merida paused and frowned. How curious. Astrid was the one who asked for an update, not Elsa, and she knew that even without the slightly haughty tones usually belonging to her leader. "I'm on tha port side," she answered.

" _Doing?"_

"Some of tha clones reported a Ghost goin' berserk. I'm huntin' him." she answered purposely, dodging the inert bodies of clones and abnormal defenders alike. "Where's Snow Queen?"

" _Dunno, she's not copying. I sent Goldilocks to go find her. Stay frosty, Bear."_

"Copy, over and out." Merida answered.

Voices swam over from the left turn ahead, ones she did not recognise. It must be the Ghost, she realised with anticipation and excitement. Slowly, she crept to the corner and peered around, putting as much of her body out of sight as she could.

Two men, one woman. Frost and Streak stood with their backs to her and...wow, Harvester was _huge._ Observing them for a few seconds, she heard them talk in hushed tones while Frost looked ashamed from behind. One arrow should do it. Dead centre of the floor between them - the electrical charge should spread from the arrow head and knock them out.

She was down to her last stun arrow so she knew she'd have to be _flawless._ Then again with a bow and arrow...she was nothing but.

* * *

"C'mon, guys. Everyone else has fallen back to the hangar deck. It's time we went too." Kristoff said, standing aside for them to pass.

He waited as Anna immediately hooked her arm around Jack's upper back and under his left shoulder for support. It occurred to him how much Jack looked like hell, as he rested his right arm over Anna's shoulders and practically collapsed against her, although Kristoff felt he shouldn't be so surprised. Straight from a rumoured brawl with Kozmotis into a toe-to-toe fight with two Valkyries, then only a short break before a full-on battle. The guy had been fighting practically non-stop for nearly two hours, and though Anna hadn't been in combat nearly as much, her eyes looked emotionally worn out by what she had seen and experienced. Spiritual exhaustion intensified by a certain family member, technically his sister-in-law.

"You two gonna be okay?" he asked, taking up a position on their six as they moved past.

"Yeah. We just need a hot shower, square meal and some sleep, I think." Anna answered. Ever the optimist. "Where's Eugene and Koz?"

Kristoff glanced behind him before answering. "Koz is moving the _Fairy_ into position, and Eugene is making sure those of us who're left are set up before he moves our projectile weapons onto the _Fairy_. Unity's quiet at the moment, but I reckon they're massing for the final charge."

Anna's steps slowed as they passed the door to the barber's, and when she spoke her voice was laced with sombre softness. "How many of us are left?"

Kristoff exhaled deeply and solemnly. Just over three hundred souls lived aboard the _Star_ twelve hours ago, now they were down to, "Fifteen," he said tonelessly, "not counting the team. We've got a pretty good defense set up, but-" he continued, but just as he glanced behind him once more his heart shot into his mouth, and he yelled, " _VALKYRIE!"_

His reaction was instantaneous, born of the instinct to protect both his precious wife and his second-in-command from the bow-wielding Valkyrie at the far end of the corridor behind them. His hands lashed out and wrenched open the barbers' door hard enough to yank it from its hinges, and put it between him and the attacking Valkyrie. Something metallic impacted against the door with a thud, preceding what was quite possibly the most painful experience in his life - an electric charge with enough voltage to put down an ordinary person. He groaned out the jerking of his body behind the door, the searing fire of pain travelling through his nerves and uncontrollably contracting his muscles.

"Kristoff!" Anna yelled in panic as he dropped to his knees, growling his pain through gritted teeth and a scrunched brow.

What this soldier...this _Valkyrie_ failed to grasp, though, was that though he was gentle and tender, he was the strongest of his kind. He was the toughest. And there was no way in hell that he would be taken down by a mere _arrow._

"Go," he snarled through his teeth, glaring at Anna to make sure she understood and, for once, listened, "She's mine."

Merida hissed a curse. She missed _again._ She failed to anticipate Harvester's reaction speed, and paid for it with her arrow embedding itself in the door...that he _practically ripped from the wall_. First Pitch Black, and now this joker. Still, the trick arrow had enough juice in it to knock out a clone trooper, so there was no reason that Harvester would be any different - though she made a mental note, as the door's bottom touched the floor, never to mention her second instance of a missed shot to Rapunzel.

She drew another arrow from the quiver on her back and nocked it, drawing it back to the bow's full length. Feeling the string's intense desire to be freed, she waited for the inevitable point where the would-be shieldsman would fall to the floor, so she could hamstring one of the other two.

But then, slowly, the door rose. "What the hell…" she hissed. No way. There was no way in the name of all the synthohol her father made that he was still standing. She stepped to the side in an attempt to try and catch Frost and Streak behind him, but the door's slightly askew position rendered that impossible. "Damn it…" she snapped.

Then a chill of fear shot through her spine when Harvester, wielding the door like a riot shield, began to charge towards her. Twenty yards away. She loosed the arrow, hearing the _thwip_ as it sailed through the air and...bounced off the 'shield'. Fifteen yards - she quickly nocked another arrow aimed under the door and let fly with _that one_ , hoping to bounce it off the floor into his leg and bring him down. There was a yell of pain as the projectile met its mark...but he was not slowed. Rather, he seemed to run _faster._

Ten yards...and in the most peculiar instance of imitation and flattery, Harvester evidently decided to repay her in kind by drawing the door above his head and literally flinging it at her. Her eyes widened, and with a shriek of panic she dropped to her knees and leaned back just as the bottom of the door passed across her vision, and embedded itself with an ear-splitting, vicious _clang_ into the wall behind her. Panting in fright, she stared paralysed at the middle of the door six inches above her, trying not to think about how close she came to having her head torn off by something you use to get in and out of a _room._

Gasping a sharp breath when her mind yelled at her to move, she rolled to the right and scrambled to her feet, ignoring the slight pain in her legs from the impromptu drop to the floor. Nocking another arrow, she waited until Harvester appeared around the corner before loosing the arrow into his upper left arm just as he reached for the impaled door. She heard him hiss in pain and saw his right hand shoot up to pull it out, but what sent a chill through her spine, that made her severely doubt her chances of survival in this battle were two things: one; his expression of indignant fury as he glanced between the arrow and her, and two; the arrow's tip barely penetrated half an inch, judging by the lack of blood. How tough _was_ this guy?

"Not smart," he growled as he wrenched the door from the wall. Merida was quickly starting to get that impression.

Yells preceded the arrival of three clones directly across from her. "Take him down," one of them shouted an order, and all three quickly levelled their rifles.

Harvester, unfortunately for them, was quicker. Frozen what had just happened, Merida watched helplessly as he used the door to shield himself and charged at them much the same way. Unlike her, the first soldier was not quick enough - Harvester literally crushed him in a spray of crimson between the door-shield and the wall, and promptly flung it at the two clones that _did_ manage to move in time - Merida almost threw up in her mask at the sight of a mass of crimson, bone and other things she did not want to identify on the wall, and the subsequent image of two clones being sliced in two at the waist by a flying door.

Now there was nothing to distract the walking monstrosity from her. Gripped by fight-or-flight, her breaths approaching terrified, she hastily loosed another arrow at him, praying that it would be the one to stop him. Kill him, if necessary. This man was _dangerous,_ strong, and striding towards _her._ The arrow embedded itself in his shoulder. He did not stop. She backed away, nocking another arrow and loosing it without aiming, which hit him square in the chest over his heart. Still, he advanced, his face taut with determination and his steps regular. Merida uttered a strangled sound as she practically ran backwards loosing one, two, three arrows in quick succession, each one finding their mark, barely piercing his skin, useless in her need to bring him down.

She nocked one more arrow and prepared to send _that_ one on the next futile journey, but Harvester had gained too much ground, and was practically on top of her. Squeaking in shock as her bow was wrenched from her grasp, she watched in horror as he snapped it in two with merely one hand, and tossed it aside.

"Heartseeker…" she breathed as she stared at the broken remnants of her weapon, feeling like a part of her had been ripped away.

There came a surge of righteous vengeance within her heart - she was supposed to be _brave._ Fearless. She wasn't supposed to be seconds away from quailing before a mere _man._ After all, every single one she had ever shot at, or competed against quickly found out why she was the best at her craft. Drawing the left side of her trench coat away, she drew her sword, raised it high above her right shoulder and brought it down at his neck with all her strength...

...and then casually, effortlessly, Harvester's arm swung up and blocked it. With his left _hand._

Merida's heart plummeted toward the twisting that used to be her stomach. She glanced between her sword and his face, still indignant, but almost _bored._ The blade of her sword had barely nicked the side of his hand...sure, there was blood, but no more than one would expect from a paper cut. Worse still, her strike had been stopped well before its apex _._

His right hand reached out to grasp the blade, and having felt her strength disappear along with the colour in her face, Merida could not prevent it from being pulled from her hands, nor could she stop him from snapping the sword in two right before her eyes with a metallic, sickening _clink._

He tossed aside the broken blade and advanced. Weaponless, strengthless and _alone,_ Merida slowly stumbled backwards, her hands instinctively reaching up to try and calm the juggernaut. "Wait...please…" she pleaded, "ye don't have tae do this…"

Her left heel connected with something hard. Losing her footing, Merida's world - such as it was - went topsy turvy as she fell backwards and impacted the floor with a heavy thud. Pain blossomed in her upper back as well as her elbows and the back of her head, something she barely even registered as Harvester was now standing over her, breathing heavily. She scrambled backwards on her hands and heels, a pointless effort as she felt the sharp press of something shelf-like in the back of her neck. Quickly darting her head around...she realised she had been forced into a _stock closet._ Her head whipped back up to Harvester, who stood over her with his fists clenched.

Oh well, at least it would be quick.

"You're right," Harvester said, wincing slightly. "I don't have to do it. And luckily for you, my team has a rule that forbids us from killing anyone unless we're under immediate threat of death - and lady, you were never a _threat-"_

Merida would have been offended, had it not been completely true.

He then ripped the closet door cleanly from its hinges. Merida, sensing her end, screwed her eyes shut and prayed it would be over soon - at least she would be relieved of the urge to visit the toilet. She gasped sharply as a piercing clang echoed throughout the small room, forcing her to shoot her hands up to her hood-covered ears and groan away the ringing pain in her eardrums.

"-but that doesn't mean you get to run around _my_ ship, hurting the people I care about." he growled.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and relief mixed itself with anxiety; sure, she had not been bisected by the door as she thought would happen, but what Harvester had accomplished was jam the door into the floor a quarter of the way. "Stick around," he quipped before turning and disappearing from the gap above the top of the door.

She heard him mutter "Ack, that smarts…" as his footsteps receded, accompanied by the thin clatter of her arrows hitting the floor as he walked away. Carefully, she rose to her feet and peered over the door, and uttered a ragged sigh of relief when she watched him round the corner out of sight, tossing away the last blood-tipped arrow.

It was then that whatever strength and will remained in her, left in that instant. Her legs gave way as she slid down the door frame. Crossing her arms at her knees, she buried her head in her forearms and, for the first time in _years,_ a chill gripped her spine at the knowledge that she threw everything she had at this man, and he just didn't _stop._ For the first time since she picked up a bow...she was beaten.

Not only that, but she was trembling. Her body was practically _shaking_ under her head.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Merida knew the true taste of fear.

* * *

The scent of the Atlantic infused the cold air of the hangar deck, tickling Jack's nose every time he inhaled as he sat cross-legged behind one of the cover crates while Anna tended to his hand. It was actually quite useful to distract himself, focusing instead on the heavily salted air rather than the sharp, irritating pains as she carefully removed the pieces of helmet-visor from his knuckles.

Illuminated by the dull, ugly yellow artificial light high above them, Anna gently removed one of the bigger shards from his middle knuckle with a pair of silver tweezers, but a sharp twinge caused him to suck in a breath and flinch away. Which then prompted her to huff, hands on her hips and all. "Do you _want_ these shards to get even further into your skin?" she said reprimandingly.

Jack averted his eyes, feeling thoroughly scolded by the stern woman. "Not particularly."

She practically yanked his hand back and returned to her ministrations, aiming for a particularly big shard in his middle finger. "Then stop acting like a whiny child and let me finish. Yeesh, this is the same guy that had stitches in his back with no anaesthetic, and he's having trouble with a few little bits of plastic in his itty-bitty _hand_." she said, mockingly.

"Yeah, well, pain tolerance is a little low - but thanks for your sympathy. It's appreciated." Jack said with a low sarcastic grumble. Anna giggled under her breath as she pinched the last shard in between his third and fourth knuckle, and Jack fought every impulse to recoil when she pulled it out - though he _did_ allow himself a hissed curse. Something that, as he arrived and knelt behind the tended-to Ghost, Eugene found amusing.

"Jack being a little girl again?" he chuckled.

"You have any injuries you need me to see to?" Anna said in a low, menacing voice as she pulled out a bandage and some antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit beside her. When Eugene shook his head, she cocked an eyebrow. "Would you _like_ some?"

Eugene rose his hands before him in surrender. "No thanks. I like my pretty face the way it is."

"Who said it would be your face? After all, we wouldn't want to break your _smoulder_." she said, glaring

Again, Jack found that he was having difficulty keeping his hand still as she bandaged him, though it was more out of laughter than anything else. Anna kept a firm grip of his hand as she looped the material round and round. "You know," he said wistfully, "there are times when I can't remember what it was like before you joined, Anna."

"S'cause I'm awesome," she replied nonchalantly as she tied off the bandage. Moving his head with one hand, she proceeded to pull out a few wipes from the packet and cleaned the dry blood around the cut on his cheek, "after all, I'm the best there is at patching up you idiots."

"Hey!" Jack protested, "I used to do my own _patching!",_ but when Anna cocked her head and gave him a look that danced between ' _yeah, right'_ and patronising, he grudgingly amended, "it wasn't _good_ , but still…anyway, why aren't you _patching_ Kristoff?"

"For one, Kristoff's skin and muscles are way too dense for him to be hurt by anything less than a harpoon. Second, like I said, s'cause I'm awesome." she said dismissively.

"She's got you there, buddy." Eugene chuckled. "Anyway, Kristoff found this on the floor and told me to give this to you."

Jack's eyes flicked down to the scout's open hand, and whatever good cheer there was in the brief moment of peace disappeared when he recognised precisely what the red loop of material was - Neve's headband. His heart clenched with a dull ache, and found it increasingly hard to swallow. Even Anna stopped cleaning his cheek, her eyes too falling on the accessory. A heavy, pregnant silence fell between the warrior trio, each one reminded of what - or rather, _who,_ they had lost. "She was a good person, Jack," Eugene said softly as he squeezed his shoulder for support, "Be proud of her."

Jack scoffed hollowly. "I am, Eugene." he said, carefully taking the headband, "but that doesn't change how badly I want her back."

"We all do, Jack." Anna said softly, squeezing his unharmed hand.

Bereft of what to say, silence fell between the three of them once more - Anna had finished patching him up, while Jack was simply lost in memory, and Eugene was silent simply because he had been there before. It wasn't long, though, before Kristoff's voice resonated through the hangar deck from near the entrance doors. "Look alive, they're coming!" he called as he quickly made his way over to the set of crates to the right of the room, and took position next to a rather murderous-looking Kozmotis.

The Ghosts and the remaining fifteen defenders buzzed with activity, each one moving to kneel behind the crates and level their rifles at the empty doorways. Tiredly, Jack pushed himself to his knees, and lifted his stun rifle from its place of leaning against the long ammunition crate. Sighing, he pulled out the power cell to check its juice level before clipping it back in, and hooked his arm around the rifle so he could loop the headband around his right wrist.

Then he had a thought, more of a memory. Something he found boring at the time, but wholly - and morale-boosting-ly - relevant in their current predicament. His rifle held upright and on his hip, he asked, "You guys heard of Charon?" Knelt either side of him, Eugene and Anna shook their heads while indicating their lack of knowledge.

"Few years ago, I was bored and decided to hang around one of Koz's lessons. It was about Greek mythology - when someone died, a coin would be placed on their mouth as payment for Charon to take their soul across the River Styx to the underworld."

Anna frowned, and shifted in her position of kneeling. "What made you think of that?"

Jack smiled a determined smile, and turned his gaze to the leftmost doorway. "If Neve needs to pay the boatman, well, then Unity owes her a debt." Shouldering his rifle, he caught sight of a clone's foot descending the steps.

"And I'm gonna collect."

* * *

"Commander?"

Hans turned to the comms officer, the one who had been monitoring the Alliance communications ever since the _Hammer's_ arrival, and regarded him patiently with both hands behind his back. Drago even turned his massive frame too, though neglected to rise from his chair. "Yes, officer?" Hans asked gently.

"Sir, ever since we lost the signal dish it has been difficult to listen out for Alliance communications thanks to the Dead Zone - but I did hear something a few minutes ago, after clearing up the interference." the officer explained. Hans said nothing, but drew his hand to gesture for the man to continue. "Sir, the Alliance have been alerted to our position."

Hans' stomach clenched, and his heart skipped a beat. He exchanged glances with Drago, though did not expect any form of concern and thus received none. "Do they know it's us?"

"No, sir," the officer shook his head, allowing Hans to breathe the sigh of relief he had been holding, "but they have dispatched a scouting fleet of two destroyers and one battleship to investigate."

"When will they be in visual range of us?" Drago asked, folding his arms. That gesture alone seemed to unnerve and chase away any confidence in the poor officer.

Answering shakily, the man said, "Um...thirty to forty-five minutes, sir."

Well, that was that. Admittedly, Hans would have preferred to stay a little longer, but the Alliance had made the decision to leave for him, and if they lingered there was every chance that the _Hammer's_ secrecy - such as it was, for a flying behemoth - would be discovered. "Return to your post, officer."

"Thank you, sir." he said quickly and gratefully, before scurrying back to the communications interface.

Hans turned to Drago, clapped his hands together and spoke as loudly as possible while keen to not be overly theatrical about it - mostly for the benefit of the crew. "Well, as much as I have enjoyed our impromptu test of the _Hammer's_ capabilities, unfortunately all things must come to an end. Captain, I suggest you bring the ship about for the return journey. Tactical officer?"

Hans turned his head just as the young man at the holo-table stiffened, and waited expectantly. "Status on the battle?"

"Our troops have been bottlenecked at the entrance to the hangar deck, sir. The resistance isn't budging. According to Alpha Four-Three, that entrance is the only way in." he explained matter-of-factly.

Tactically, it made sense. With only one entrance, the abnormals could focus their fire and make it incredibly difficult, if not impossible for the troops to gain a foothold in the room. After all, it was a tactic that had served them well in the first few moments of the battle.

Yet, one would think they would have learned to be mindful of history repeating itself. "Then we'll open another door. Signal the Valkyries and recall them to the _Hammer,_ and then I want one of our _Einherjars_ currently wasting time chasing the creature to peel off and _ram_ the enemy vessel's port-side door. Our troops can use that to flank the abnormals. Hopefully we can capture some before we have to leave. Do you understand?"

The slender tactical officer clacked his boots together and stiffened to the point that he was perfectly perpendicular to the floor and an acceptable substitute for a spirit level. "Yes, sir!" he answered loudly, before turning to the table and pushing a button at its very edge to begin issuing Hans' orders to the Valkyries. Hans then turned back to Drago, and leaned in so his voice could be heard by only the captain.

"That ship is over a century old, and she's been living on borrowed time for far too long. She's wounded, so as soon as we are in position and the starboard cannon is ready, I want you to open fire and put her out of her misery." he ordered quietly.

Evidently Drago was being either slow, overly curious, or had suddenly grown a moral backbone. "What about all your clone troops aboard?"

Hans gave him a funny look. "Does it look like I care? You know what needs to be done, Captain. When the Alliance arrive, I want to leave them with nothing but a dead ship and a dead way of life."

* * *

" _This is the Hammer to all Valkyries - return to base. I repeat, return to base."_

Astrid barely registered the command to recall them back to the ship, so busy was she in staring at a doll resting in her palm, enduring a sensation of iron-heavy nausea in her stomach. It was only a little thing, barely the size of her hand, made of thick cotton with two black buttons for eyes, brown wool for hair and a faded red triangle of material to constitute her dress. It was quiet where she was, inside a room which had apparently been designated...as a _kindergarten._ With the troopers funnelling directly towards the steps descending into the hangar deck, it left her in a strange state of isolation where she could stare at the doll and wonder...just how many children had been on this ship? Had they escaped prior to the _Hammer's_ arrival? She had heard chatter of ships being launched at blistering speeds somewhere at the battle's beginning; she didn't know if the talk was true, but she hoped...she prayed that they were spiriting away the children. That there were no little eyes to witness the violence and destruction.

If she were to be asked later, her answer would be that she did not know _why_ she slipped the small doll into the inner breast pocket of her trench coat. Maybe it was a reminder of her youth, of the lack of love forcing her to grow up independently, eschewing dolls for playground brawls. Maybe it was a strange form of physical proof that, again, Unity lied and that the abnormals weren't a threat to society, but simply a people trying to survive.

Or maybe it was to serve as a reminder of that night, of the systematic eradication of the abnormal resistance...and _her_ part in it. The guilt chewing at her heart, embodied in that little doll.

She swallowed thickly as she patted the doll so it was nice and secure in her pocket, and forced herself to return to the present. Elsa had not instantly responded to the _Hammer's_ recall order, so as dictated by the chain of command the duty to respond fell to her. "This is Valkyrie Second Hofferson - understood, we are returning to base."

She turned back the way she came, where she _thought_ the corridors to the flight deck were, and radioed Rapunzel. "Goldilocks, did you find Snow Queen?"

Her response was immediate. " _Yeah. We heard the recall order, so we're on our way back to the Valhalla."_ Astrid immediately questioned Elsa's current state, to which Rapunzel replied, " _She's a little shaken. Found her in their mess hall, I think she found her sister. Says she's fine, though."_

Astrid felt the chill of worry, of peculiar concern in her mind. Elsa was a stuck-up, haughty bitch in her honest opinion, so whatever happened in the mess hall must have been big to shake that usually icy demeanour enough for her to forget to respond to the _Hammer._ "Okay, see you at the _Valhalla._ Bear, you copy?"

However, where she expected Merida's accented tones, she received nothing but silence. Not a single word, "Bear, are you there?", sound, "Viking to Bear, do you copy?", or breath. The chill of concern became outright stomach-churning worry - had she run afoul of Pitch?

So distracted was she on Merida's lack of reply that she forgot to keep track of where she was going, and chose turns at random. With the pipes that adorned the ceiling splitting off in different directions, and sometimes through the walls themselves, coupled with the dim lights that flickered to an unsettling, headache-inducing degree - thank you Valkyrie goggles, designed to mitigate things such as that - and the fact that the entire _damn_ ship was a _damn_ maze, Astrid found herself completely lost at a T-junction. Turning on her feet, her head darting every which way, she saw a set of directions painted on the wall - which would have been useful if she was looking for the officer's quarters or the ship's exercise gym. Hence, about as useful as a chocolate fireguard.

The anxiety in her heart began to deepen, and in her mind she began searching for other options whilst rebuking Merida for not reporting her position earlier. It was typical Merida; when she was on the hunt, she became blinkered to all else but the target. Fantastic quality for a sniper or an assassin, but not that good for a team member. "Hofferson to base, come in?" she said, swallowing the bitter taste of her pride and seeking Unity's help.

" _Hammer receiving,"_ came the garbled answer from the floating monstrosity - Astrid frowned further, still curious as to why the transmission quality went from sharp one moment to heavily distorted when they issued the recall orders.

"I don't have eyes on Bear, and I don't recognise where I am. Mind guiding me?"

" _Copy, directions incoming,"_ the tactical officer answered, and a few seconds later launched into a set of directions spoken into her ear, like a map-reading spirit on her shoulder.

* * *

Kristoff once reckoned that every abnormal had a shared gift - trash-talking. Even as the defense was crumbling, every single defender tossed forth insults, jeers, criticisms and acerbic jabs at the clone soldiers' parentage as they ducked pulse bolts whilst sending hundreds back in return. His particular favourite was issued by one of the women that had previously given him directions to find Anna - " _Oh man, your mama could shoot better than you! Wait, you don't_ have _a mama!" -_ partly because it was hilarious, but equally amusing when the woman was the recipient of a rather stern glare from Anna. Luckily Jack saw the humour, laughing as he achieved several headshots in succession and subsequently yelling " _now_ that's _how you're supposed to shoot!"_

But the defense _was_ crumbling, no matter how many times the length of the clone soldiers' genitalia was questioned. Sure, the troopers were falling like leaves, but they just kept coming. Numberless. An unstoppable onslaught of black-clothed mindless soldiers spewing forth bolts of blue that missed ninety-five percent of the time - but the remaining five percent hurt. Fifteen defenders became fourteen. Twelve became eleven, and every time one of the valiant defenders fell backwards after being hit in the face by a stun bolt and collapsed to the floor, the clatter of their rifle on the asphalt was a thunderclap. Every time he would share a sombre, pessimistic glance with Kozmotis to his right.

Ducking behind the crate, he ejected an empty power cell, tossed it at the enemy soldiers with enough force to drive it into the chest of a hapless clone, and produced a final one from his utility vest. Taking a moment, he cast his eyes around the hangar deck - for years, the _Star_ had been their home, had supported and nourished over a thousand people, refusing to succumb to the ravages of time or the hate of the world she sailed in. She had hid them, protected them, gave them a chance to survive. In a way, she was a part of the family as any abnormal...and so he whispered, "Thank you."

He turned to the left and took a deep breath, ready to order the final retreat to the _Fairy,_ and the evacuation of the Ghosts and any they could take with them from the dying ship.

* * *

"I think I'm gonna throw up." Astrid said, and promptly heaved behind her mask.

Left and then a right were the final directions from the tactical officer, who explained that Astrid should be right on top of Merida as soon as she took the final turn. What he failed to mention - not that he would have known, of course - was that what Astrid was truly on top of was a huge pool of blood spread over the corridor floor, two soldiers that had been bisected by...a _door,_ judging by the crimson streaking down one end, and the explosion of claret on the wall furthest to the left above the messy remains of what _used_ to be a third soldier. A third...currently drastically _thinner_ soldier.

Bloodbath was a term that Astrid had heard flying around once or twice and even used herself, but the sight of three bodies sprawled over the blood-covered floor was the first thing that did the term justice. The icing on the cake was the coppery, nausea-inducing smell; for all the joys of the rebreather units integrated into the mask, while excellent for filtering toxins and harmful gases they were useless at preventing the acrid stench from antagonising her nostrils.

She tried to focus her attention away from the bloody scene of violence. With one hand covering the mouthplate of her mask and extending her left arm out for balance, she navigated through the sprawling, bisected bodies whilst taking great care not to slip. So far her stomach was doing admirably at keeping her dinner on the premises, but it probably wouldn't appreciate her falling and landing in the crimson pool. Slowly, she rounded the corner - and saw something most peculiar under the flickering lights.

A door, where it should be but not positioned how it should be. Jammed into the ground a quarter of the way. Cocking her head and frowning, she looked around the site of the oddity…

"Merida!"

...and that was when she saw the broken bow.

Doing away with her prior care, she rushed forth whilst miraculously staying upright despite a couple of stumbles, leaving bloody boot prints to where she ducked down and picked up the two halves of Heartseeker, connected solely by a useless bowstring. Shifting her weight, she stepped on something metallic with her right boot, and when she looked down in curiosity she saw yet another weapon of Merida's in two halves...her sword. Right in front of the strangely-planted door.

"Merida, where are you?" she called out. Hoping, praying for a response.

Mercifully, to the skip of her heart and a sigh of relief, she received a slightly muffled one. "I'm here, lass."

Astrid dropped the bow and pressed herself against the door to peer over, and felt a pulse of worry emanate from her churning stomach when she saw her team-mate, sat in what looked like a dark stock closet with her legs arched and her head in her arms. "Been looking everywhere for you! You okay?" Astrid asked quickly and with deep concern, especially due to the sight of her _shaking._

"No."

"What happened?" Astrid asked, rapt.

"I…" Merida began, but shook her head. Undeterred, Astrid pressed her friend for answers. "He t-t-took everythin' I h-had...and just k-kept comin'. _Nothing_ I d-did made any difference...and w-when he...those c-clones…"

"Pitch?" It seemed to be his M.O, or at least that was the vibe Astrid got from the violent Ghost.

"No. Harvester."

Astrid grimaced, and let loose a sigh that carried with it her incredulity. "You picked a fight with _Harvester?_ Fuck, I'm surprised you're still alive! The guy's as tough as a tank and hits like a walking hover freight-train!"

"Yeah well I didnae know that, did I?" Merida snapped angrily, her masked head shooting up to meet Astrid. "Snow Queen didnae show me tha holo-videos!"

"She did, Mer. You just fell asleep."

Merida scoffed - thankfully, the shaking seemed to have stopped. Astrid knew her friend well enough to know that it wasn't just her spectacular one-sided defeat that had shaken her to the core, nor was it how close she came to a violent and grisly end. It was that she had cultivated a sense of arrogance and cockiness when it came to ranged weapons, regularly hitting the bullseyes with little effort and attaining maximum scores on the firing range. Factor all her competitors and targets being men, and Astrid knew that she had engendered a sense of superiority, too. So then along came a man who completely deconstructed and destroyed that self-belief and self-confidence in what looked like a very short time.

Put simply, Harvester didn't just take Merida down a peg. He _humbled_ her.

"You're lucky to be alive, Red."

She chuckled bitterly as she rose to her feet, awkwardly and tiredly. "Don't I know it. Only reason he didnae paint tha walls with ma blood is they have a rule against killing. S'why I was trapped in here."

"Almost makes you think they have honor," Astrid said darkly, remembering a certain Ghost and how close _she_ came to death, "though I guess Pitch didn't get the memo. Anyway, we've been recalled. Let's get you out of here."

Astrid stepped back and gave the embedded door a quick once-over. It was wedged too deeply to simply be pulled back, so her only choice was to lift it. Gripping the sides of the door, Astrid promptly put all her strength into pulling the door up, grunting and holding her breath with the exertion. Her arm muscles went taut, screaming obscenities at her for daring to put them through more work, and her fingertips sent blossoms of pain through her already aching wrists with how tightly she grasped the door.

But it was no use. Save for the occasional light scraping of metal that set her clenched teeth on edge, the door didn't budge an inch. Panting her breath, Astrid released her hands and stood back, glaring angrily at it.

"S'no good. Harvester wedged this thing in but tight."

"Go, then." her friend replied, "I'll be fine. Maybe he'll come back fer me."

Astrid peered over the door and shot her friend a reprimanding glare, useless behind two masks. "Like hell I will, Red. I'm not leaving you behind. Just...means I have to get creative."

Merida's frown was audible, as well as her confusion. "What do ye mean?"

Astrid cast several glances to her left and behind her, checking, double checking, and triple checking she was not being observed by abnormal nor clone. "You know what."

Merida gasped. "Are ye crazy? What if they see ye?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Astrid snapped. When Merida issued no such reply, "I thought not. Stand back."

Her friend did as she was told. Astrid stepped forward once more, and gripped the sides of the door in exactly the same places...and for the first time in years, a buzzing rushed forth from her chest to her fingertips. The door began to vibrate, rattling against the metal floor like a whirring drill resting against a cooking pan. Clenching her teeth, Astrid continued channeling vibrations through her hands as she put all her strength into her legs and arms, lifting as hard as she could - and slowly, dislodged by the tremors coursing through her hands, the door crept upwards inch by inch.

Soon enough the door came loose. Panting with breath, Astrid pulled it to her right and let it fall with a head-rattling clatter. Freed from her dark prison, Merida surged to embrace the exhausted woman, who was practically slumping against the wall in a thankful hug.

"Hell of a risk ye took there, lass. Thank ye."

Astrid waved a dismissive hand. "Don't mention it. _Seriously._ " Pulling away, she bent down to pick up the remnants of Heartseeker before adding, "Anyway, it's time we got the hell out of here. I'm done."

* * *

His ears ringing, the only thing Jack could immediately feel, and was acutely aware of was pain. His hands, arms, legs...hell, nearly every part of his body was screaming bloody murder. Whether it was a stabbing, aching, dull or burning pain, or a combination thereof, he felt it.

Forcing his eyes open by instinct, he slowly but surely came back to reality, and involuntarily tried to push through the muggy haze of his mind to recall precisely why he suddenly found himself on his back, with the asphalt floor of the hangar deck biting into the back of his skull and his ears filled with a muddy, indiscernible sonic haze. The muffled sound of agonised screaming, panicked shouting, and little booms that mingled together. He tried to distinguish the voices, to work out what they were saying, but his disorientation made it impossible.

As he blinked over and over again his vision began to sharpen, the blurred waters of his sight receding to reveal a white ceiling with a pipework system directly above him, an amber glow somewhere to his right, and the occasional flash of blue mingling with the amber. It was the smell, though, that was the most acute and untouched by his mild concussion - the acrid scent of smoke, coupled with the stench of burning flesh.

Groaning, he struggled to roll onto his side and became distinctly aware of a stabbing pain in his chest, which somehow seemed to jumpstart his memory; the last thing he remembered was being ten feet behind Anna as they sprinted to the _Fairy_ , with the sounds of pulse fire behind them and the occasional blue bolt zipping past their heads. He had then heard Hiccup's panicked yell of something about the bow port door, and not a second later his vision had become white. An unstoppably powerful force had thrown him like a ragdoll into the air, leading to the complete disorientation he was enduring.

It was when his vision focused that he noticed something, a humanoid shape limping towards him, their gait weighing heavily on their left side. Dazed and sluggish, he felt a pair of hands wrap themselves around his upper arm and yank him to his feet, and came face to face with the panicked, blackened, wide-eyed face of Anna.

"Jack!" she yelled, or he thought she did as his ears were still ringing, " you okay?"

He had no idea how to answer that.

Slowly, he turned his head back towards the site of the battle in the strange, instinctive need for his brain to understand precisely what had happened to cause such disorientation and pain. When he did, however, the mental sluggishness instantly receded and he wished he had ignored his gut feeling.

The bow port door wore a gaping hole, and strewn in front of it from one end of the hangar to the other were the remains of whatever had punched through the heavy steel doors like they were paper - an _Einherjar_ fighter, judging by the gashed and torn fuselage on its side against the opposite wall, curved wings that had been ripped away from the main body and the smashed cockpit screen. Fires raged halfway to the ceiling, melding with the wall of flame Anna had created to cover their escape, so hot that even stood nowhere near the blaze, Jack could still feel its heat on his cheek. Quickly it dawned on him - the _Einherjar_ had rammed the doors in a kamikaze run in a horrific way to create a second entrance so as to flank them...but it did so much more than that.

Bodies of abnormal and clone alike, motionless and lifeless, were strewn across the asphalt in physical positions no human should ever see. Some were no longer whole - the body of one defender was near the fuselage, while his head was halfway between it and the ruptured door. Blood adorned the asphalt in streaks.

Of the ten or so remaining defenders at the time of their staggered retreat...three remained.

"Come on," Anna said hurriedly, and pulled on his arm, "we have to go!"

"Yeah…" Jack breathed, "go...right…"

Anna darted off. Following, Jack cast one glance back just as three clones emerged through the flames, the first walking up to one of the defenders as she crawled - her left leg was missing below the knee, probably sheared off by flying shrapnel - and coldly shooting her in the back.

" _Go! Flynn's been hit, but I'll be right behind you!"_ he heard Kristoff shout, or thought he did, at least.

Turning back, Jack renewed his limped sprint to the _Fairy_ waiting patiently at the open stern starboard door, but then his eyes fell upon another defender ahead, just off to the left. Wincing, he slowed his pace much to the cheering of his left leg, and as though guided he made his way over to the woman sprawled on the asphalt deck. She was still moving, but weakly, and a shard of metal the size of his arm protruded from her abdomen. For the first time in his life, Jack was too shocked and horrified to speak. She stared at him with wide hazel eyes, terrified. Confused. He knelt down beside her, all knowledge of what to do or say escaping him. Blood seeped from the right corner of her mouth as she valiantly struggled to lift her head to see him better. Paralysed and oblivious to the bolts zipping over his head, he did nothing as her hand moved up to his face, trembling, and as her fingertips touched his left eyebrow her eyes rolled back into her head when what little life she had left her. Those same fingers slipped down across to his cheek, leaving what churned his stomach to realise were two thin trails of blood.

"Come on!" Anna yelled from the embarkation ramp, panicked and frustrated. Overcome by survival instinct, especially since a bolt of blue came a little too close for comfort, Jack scrambled to his feet and quickly limped to the _Fairy._ Anna's arm shot out as he reached the ramp, grasping his outstretched hand and roughly yanking him up. A glance to the cockpit revealed Kozmotis in the pilot's seat, his back to him as he worked quickly and furiously to wrap the safety harness around him. Anna darted past the two crates of Third War pistols and rifles, taking the passenger seat nearest the circular red button for closing and opening the ramp. She motioned with an impatient and expectant head to the seat by her side while she looped the harness over her shoulders. Using the crates to steady his footing, hissing in pain Jack sidled over and immediately dropped down into the seat before proceeding to secure himself. Now it was just a matter of the final two - his heart thundering in his chest so hard he thought it would break the ribcage, he exchanged tense glances with Anna just as Kozmotis pushed the lever forward and the _Fairy's_ engines roared into life, muffled slightly by the hull.

" _Everybody secure? Is my wife on board?"_ he heard Kristoff's voice ring out over the _Fairy's_ intercom system. Kozmotis glanced over his shoulder at Anna.

"Yes. Waiting on you." Kozmotis answered.

" _Negative, I need you to go now! Do you copy?"_ Kristoff yelled.

"What?!" Anna said, eyes wide, "No! No, we're staying right here!"

"Anna's right - we're not leaving you behind!" Jack yelled.

" _That's why I'm making the decision for you."_ Kristoff countered.

Jack had about two seconds to frown at the determination in his superior's voice before the _Fairy_ violently shot forward, throwing him sharply to the right with enough force for the straps to nearly fracture a rib and for Anna to thud into his left side - and the briefest of glances in among the stomach-lurching inertia out of the opposite porthole yielded not the _Star's_ hull...but black sky.

It then hit him squarely in the gut what Kristoff had done, and as he exchanged fearful glances of realisation with Anna...she knew too.

"No…" she breathed, barely audible above the roar of the air rushing in through the open ramp, "no, no-no-no!" She twisted to face Kozmotis, and yelled "Turn this ship around!"

" _Belay that, Pitch, that's an order!"_ Kristoff snapped. " _Get as far away as you can! You take that ship, you take my wife and you get out of here! Come back and we all-"_

"No!" Anna cried, and instantly tried to unbuckle her safety harness, fumbling with the red button connecting all four straps. Jack's heart shot into his mouth, and with far greater grace despite the panic coursing through his veins at both Kristoff staying behind and Anna's intent, he unclipped himself just in time to jump up and hold Anna back with his right arm, and held onto the ceiling rigging with his left. She strained against him, mindless with anxiety and terror, clawing at his arm as she tearfully shrieked, "Let me go! Get the hell off me, we need to save him! We need to go back!"

It took all the strength Jack had left and even some he didn't know he had to hold Anna back from diving out of the open space. He glanced out of the back, and watched how the _Star_ grew smaller the further they flew, wounded by the four fires raging on her deck. Anna wriggled and strained against him, her cries to go back broken by emergent sobs.

" _Sweetheart, can you hear me?"_ Kristoff quickly asked.

Anna's struggles started losing their strength as she listened, and instead of just holding her _back_ Jack was also holding her _up._ "I can hear you…" she whimpered weakly.

" _I love you so much…"_

"Kristoff-"

" _I love y-"_

There was a split second where time stood still and a single moment became an eternity; a dazzling blue beam shot forth from the _Hammer's_ side and punched through the _Star_ like a knife through butter, practically impaling her in a pillar of light. Anna jumped back in fright as a blinding white light and a thunderous roar filled the passenger hold, and though Jack had to squint and turn his head away, he could easily make out with horror the sight of their home splitting apart in an explosion that surely made the heavens tremble. His heart froze and plummeted, but he could not look away - and there was no other feeling in his body but numbness and stunned horror.

And no other sound in his earpiece...but static.

Of the two, Anna was the one to react first. She screamed and screamed her denial and her husband's name, renewing her straining against Jack's arm with less determination and more feral grief, mindless and intent on joining her husband. She struggled and pushed, her shrieks dwindling into choked sobs, and as the _Fairy_ drew further and further from the dead vessel she collapsed to her knees and fell against him. Jack felt her claw against his tank top and weep into the fabric, her entire body shaking with her cries.

It was a miracle that her powers had not engulfed the _Fairy_ and turned it into a ball of flame, but Jack had a suspicion it was less down to whatever self-control Anna had left and more down to _his_ powers cancelling hers out. Fire stymied by ice - or more aptly, a firestorm held back by a blizzard.

The _Star_ audibly groaned her last metallic breath, shrieking her dying throes into the sky. Unity had gone one further - they had killed the venerable, kind, reliable _Star_ with ruthlessness and prejudice. There was no more use watching their home die, so Jack carefully plucked the rod from his bracer with one hand, passed it back and after extending it to its full length, twisted around to jab at the red button above and behind him. As it connected, the ramp closed with a deep scraping, rendering quiet the passenger hold aside from the hum of the engines and Anna's grief-stricken sobs, in addition to hiding the horrific sight of _Star's_ destruction from them.

" _Jack…"_ Hiccup's voice, barely above a whisper, swam through the earpiece. Jack rested his staff on the floor and let it roll away, before returning his hand to hold Anna's quivering form and comfort her before answering.

"What?"

" _What's our next move?"_

Jack frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Kozmotis' addition _should_ have been condescending, patronising, and definitely sarcastic...but it wasn't. It was matter-of-fact, but also _solemn. "You're our leader now."_

Jack exhaled slowly through his nose and tightened his embrace. He was right - as second-in-command, in the event of something happening to Kristoff the duties of leadership would fall to Jack until or if there ever was such a time for it to be passed back or passed on. And something had _definitely_ happened to Kristoff.

Which irrevocably made Jack the new leader of the Ghosts.

"Bring the _Fairy_ about and hover out of visual range. We'll hide in the dark until Unity has gone, and then do a sweep for survivors." he quietly commanded. Anna seemed to be listening, judging by how she squeezed him a little harder.

" _Our fuel isn't looking good, Jack. If we do that, we won't have enough to get to Sanctuary. We'd have to fly to Unity territory."_ Kozmotis pointed out.

There it was, Jack's first big, tough decision as leader. Guaranteed trip home but at the cost of not knowing for sure if Kristoff and Eugene had survived, or linger just in case but potentially never see _Sanctuary_ or their friends again. His heart thumped against his ribs as a cold chill hung on his heart - hell of a first decision...yet, it felt right. "Do it. If there's even a one percent chance they're alive...we have to take it."

Anna squeezed him even tighter.

* * *

Elsa couldn't breathe _._ She couldn't think, couldn't understand, _couldn't_ _breathe._

She had piloted the _Valhalla_ halfway through her climb in a wide circle toward the _Hammer's_ deck when a blindingly bright light had filled the drop-ship's cockpit, and it took a few moments plus tinting the windshield for her to see what had happened.

And it horrified her to the very core of her soul.

The _Hammer_ had fired her heavy pulse cannon into the ship's side, creating a hole so big that the ship was split in two but seemingly held together by flames that rose to the heavens. Sat in the safety of the _Valhalla's_ cockpit, it had then hit her exactly who could have been on board. Trembling, her left hand shot up to her mouth, her eyes wide with realisation and horror, brimming with tears shed and unshed. "No...Anna…" she breathed behind her hand, fighting the huge lump in her throat. She felt...indescribable. Like her body didn't know which emotion to process first, which way to jump, and was stuck in limbo.

She felt a hand enclose itself around her right. Slowly she tore her gaze away from the horrific explosion and toward the face of Astrid, who looked out of the windshield with a mix of pity, sympathy, horror and utter incomprehension. "This was too far." Astrid mused out loud. "Way too far."

For once, Elsa agreed - and hated herself for it taking the sinking of a ship for that to happen.

" _Hammer to Valhalla, return to base."_

Elsa didn't respond instantly. She _couldn't._ She was still speechless, dumbfounded, nauseous - or just didn't want to talk to the ship that potentially took her sister from her.

" _Hammer to Valhalla, do you copy? Return to base!"_

Elsa swallowed thickly, trying to force down the feeling of rushed anxiety - the longer she remained silent, the more suspicious it looked. She tried to speak, but the voice that came out of her mouth was broken, hoarse and weak. "Valhalla here...we copy. That's a negative."

Astrid turned to shoot her a look, and she could clearly feel the sensation of another two pairs of eyes burning into the back of her skull. The tactical officer's voice was incredulous and instantly frustrated. " _Repeat last?"_

"R-request permission t-to…" Elsa began, but found it so, _so_ hard to speak, "to remain for a short time, in case of survivors. Some may have...escaped, and might return. Will leave before the Alliance come into visual range."

Silence reigned from the other end; obviously the officer had relayed Elsa's request to Hans, who was considering it. She hoped, _prayed_ that he would grant permission - because she would stay anyway and be court-martialled for insubordination, otherwise. She had to find out if Anna was still alive. " _Permission granted, Valhalla. Remember, leave before hostiles arrive."_

Astrid's look became more and more expectant as time went on. Elsa thanked the officer and closed the communications line, returning her eyes to the burning, sinking wreck of what used to be...used to be Anna's home.

"They're alive."

Astrid frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"The Ghosts...they wouldn't have survived for so long if they didn't have an escape plan. Unity has thrown everything they have at them...and they're still standing. They're alive, I can feel it." Elsa answered, a wave of determination in her voice gaining strength with every word she spoke.

* * *

Merida was the first to spot them.

Elsa had piloted the _Valhalla_ to the very cusp of the circle of amber light given off by the fires that remained unsubmerged, hidden in the darkness. She had then asked Merida to stand where she could see out of the cockpit's windshield, hoping that her flawless vision would help.

And it did, as ten minutes later, a _Hela_ class slowly and lazily hovered over the surface of the water toward them, casting two long wakes under her as her crew searched for survivors.. "It's them." Merida said, no shadow of a doubt in her voice. "I can see her name. _Fairy."_

Elsa leaned forward and squinted - but their archer was right.

The problem was, just as they had seen the _Fairy,_ the _Fairy_ had seen them.

The Ghost drop-ship's engines put her in full forward thrust, and she charged towards them only to climb above them at the last second, close enough to jostle the _Valhalla_ from side to side. Merida quickly darted back to her passenger seat just as Elsa wrenched the stick to the left, fishtailing the _Valhalla_ until she faced the same direction as the _Fairy_ and practically slammed the acceleration lever down. The _Valhalla_ lurched forward like a missile, forcing Elsa and Astrid back into their seats as she pulled back on the stick, causing the ship to quickly climb. Her stomach tried to become one with the chair with the speed of ascent, but it was only moments before the rather uncomfortable change in direction and acceleration paid off - not far ahead, the _Fairy_ flew.

"What're we doing, shooting them down?" Astrid asked.

"No!" Elsa blurted quickly. "No...we don't fire at them."

"What if they fire at _us?"_ Rapunzel asked in a quiet, worried voice. Now _that_ was a question, one that Elsa pondered how to answer just as the _Fairy_ flew up through a thick, dark cloud.

What she then did was stupid, reckless, irresponsible and myopic - she followed them. Instantly the windshield was covered in wispy grey cotton, reducing their visibility to zero. They were completely blinded - yet she did not regret it, such was her determination to keep up with the ship that she hoped still carried her sister. She had to make amends. She had to tell her sister that she never wanted it to happen. She never wanted their home to be torn apart. She had to make her see, before their sisterly bond was infused with hate. To make her understand that the feeling Elsa had ever since first seeing the _Hammer_ of events moving without her control or knowledge had just come to a head.

The fluffy cloud began to slip away from the windshield, and Elsa's heart leapt into her mouth as she was greeted with a grey-white floor, an inky black sky dotted with millions of diamond stars and one of the largest, most _beautiful_ and radiant full moons she had ever seen...and it then plummeted when she realised that there was nothing else to see. The _Fairy_ had vanished.

"Shit!" she blurted, frustratedly slapping the dashboard once. ' _Air-conditioning activated…'_ was the onboard A.I's clever response.

"Where the heck did they go?" Astrid whispered incredulously, craning her neck forward so her head could twist every which way and peer out of the windshield. "They must have peeled off and gotten the hell out of here…which _we_ should do."

But Elsa knew what was happening, and she didn't need to hear Merida whisper " _it's an ambush…"_ under her breath to remind her. The feeling that told her the Ghosts were still alive was still there in her heart, and even _stronger..._

...and proven right.

Heart thumping a rapid beat, Elsa and the Valkyries watched as the _Fairy_ slowly and ominously rose in front of them from beneath, their noses less than two feet apart. The two ships were so close that Elsa could _see_ the cold yet furious expressions belonging to Pitch and Frost as they sat in the front seats. Leaning slightly, she felt her heart jump for joy when she spotted the top of a strawberry blonde head poke out from behind Pitch's chair. Anna was _alive,_ and it was proven. She was staring at the floor, uninterested in how close the _Valhalla_ was, but alive.

Then her breath froze in her throat when she glanced down, her eyes attracted by movement either side of the _Fairy's_ nose - her rotary cannons were furiously spinning. A single button could riddle the _Valhalla_ with hundreds of holes and bat her out of the sky like she was nothing. After all - there was every likelihood that the Ghosts had witnessed their home's destruction and, judging by Frost's expression of cold fury...it was equally likely that he would press that button.

"I think we should move." Astrid said tensely - and even _her_ voice had taken on a slight tremor. "Cut the engines, we drop like a stone, then hit forward thrust as soon as we-"

"It won't help."

Elsa, as well as Astrid twisted round to face Rapunzel, who was leaning down with her hand on the hull and peering out of the port side window, wearing a resigned and partly exasperated expression. "Those aren't the only guns pointed at us." she clarified, and pointed through the glass.

Frowning, Elsa twisted round to peer through the left side of the windshield, and felt the colour drain from her face when she spotted Night Fury astride his black...whatever species of creature it was, and the only reason he was visible was thanks to the bright blue glow tracing along the beast's body. Not to mention its mouth.

"Welp, we're screwed." Astrid deadpanned.

Movement from the _Fairy's_ cockpit caught Elsa's eye. Turning back to face it, she noticed Frost unclip himself from his co-pilot's chair, toss the straps over his shoulder and rise to his feet, all the while maintaining unblinking eye contact with her. Those piercing blues felt, now that she did not picture his face whilst feeling unquenchable rage, like they were peering into her soul. He then turned and moved toward the passenger compartment, stopping once to bend down and whisper something into Anna's ear. Elsa felt a surge of curiosity; she found herself desperate to know what was being said.

Frost then straightened up, unhooked something from behind Anna and slipped it over his face, before reaching out to something obscured by the thin bulkhead behind Pitch. She saw the glint of his staff being extended in his left hand as he turned his back to her and walked off - and promptly disappeared.

Then one second later, he reappeared - stood on top of the _Fairy._ Elsa's breath caught in her throat; the moonlight framed his entire being like a life-size halo, an outline of white around a silhouette of black. Light reflected from his wind-whipped and snow-white hair, making it look like it was giving off its own ethereal glow. His mask and goggles covered his face, whether due to the frightening altitude or whether he was ready for war, she wasn't certain. Stood with his arms held slightly and aggressively away from him, she could almost _feel_ his rage - actually _feel_ it.

The atmosphere inside the _Valhalla_ was so tense, the slightest movement startled all four women. Unable to tear her eyes away, and her breaths coming thick, fast and anxious, Elsa watched as Frost _walked_ across the _Fairy_ towards them, like the harsh winds and staggering height were just distractions as light as leaves in a breeze. She watched as he made his way down the cockpit and the nose, lifted himself into the air like an invisible force carried him...and touched down in front of them, just on the other side of the _Valhalla's_ windshield. Nothing but a few panes of glass and a shell of metal separated them. Rapt with attention, Elsa watched as he knelt down, his masked face moving between and lingering on each Valkyrie in turn, until he finally rested his gaze upon _her._

The Ghost and the Valkyrie, eyes locked as they had been all those weeks ago in the apartment, the rage as one-sided as it had been before yet emanating from a different person. She could _feel_ his eyes burning through her, and saw how his head slightly tilted as though working out what to make of her. Heart thudding with anxiety, Elsa didn't dare look away.

But then he made the first move - literally. His right hand pressed itself against her side of the cockpit window, fingers feathered apart. A second later, frost crept from his hand and grew to cover the glass, thick enough to obscure her vision - or, as was his intent, write in.

He removed his hand save for one finger. Slowly, he wrote three letters backwards to him but perfectly placed for her to read - 'SIX'. Elsa breathed the word out loud.

Then his finger moved to the top left corner...and drew a diagonal line across it, as though striking out a mistake.

"W-what does that mean?" Rapunzel asked faintly, from somewhere over Elsa's right shoulder.

Elsa knew, though. She knew _exactly_ what it meant. Swallowing heavily, just as his black shadow disappeared from the windshield, she tried to speak out loud yet was only able to manage just above a whisper. " _A Ghost kills only in self-defence under immediate threat of death._ It's one of their rules - the sixth one."

"Okay, so," Merida piped up, "how is that connected tae what he just did?"

Elsa felt an all-too familiar chill in her spine. "It's a warning - it means their sixth rule is no longer in effect. It means…"

In any other situation, Astrid would have teased her for the dramatic effect...but it wasn't Elsa's intention. No, she found herself having to force the rest of her sentence out as a result of _fear._

"...it means that if they ever see us again...they'll kill us all."

* * *

**THE PURGE: COMPLETE**

* * *

End of Act I

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it, the end of the first act of Of Ghosts and Valkyries. The abnormals have been scattered, the Fairy can't return home. Anna has lost her husband, Jack has lost his surrogate mother, and Elsa has realised just where her path of vengeance has led.
> 
> OH, AND ASTRID HAS POWERS.
> 
> Did they truly perish in the explosion? Did Kristoff and Eugene truly die? And now that Elsa doubts what she has been told, who is the true author of her pain? More importantly...can the Ghosts ever forgive her? Can Jack and Anna see past their pain and grief? Who knows.
> 
> Find out in Act II, due out near the end of May.
> 
> I would like to thank several people for their invaluable and life-saving aid during the writing of this part of the story. The only one I will directly cite is my wife, for enduring the proofreads - but I'm making a change; I would like to thank those of you who have been a part of the creative process and have listened to my ideas, and been instrumental in the formation of this story. You all know who you are, especially one.
> 
> I would also like to thank my fans (I actually have fans...wat…) for reading, for commenting on and kudos-ing this story. I would be writing it regardless, but your support makes it a joy and a borderline addiction. It wouldn't be anywhere near as rewarding without you. Each comment is a huge boost to my confidence, and each constructive criticism helps me grew. So many, many tanks. They're over there. Some of them aren't metal, though...they're inflatable. Budget cuts.
> 
>  
> 
> Okay - a few people have expressed concerns as to how Jelsa could possibly happen - my answer is in the form of a quote by Thomas Fuller - 'It is said that the darkest hour of the night comes just before the dawn'. In short, you have to experience the lowest low, to reach the highest high.
> 
> See you in May!
> 
> For the Ghosts,
> 
> Furiyan


	29. Act II Teaser

**Of Ghosts and Valkyries: Act II Teaser**

* * *

_(Welcome to your life…)_

_(There's no turning back…)_

_(Even while we sleep…)_

_(We will find you.)_

* * *

"So what happens now?" Hiccup asked, pausing to scratch under Toothless' ear before rising to walk with Jack out of the barn. "What's our next move?"

Jack's jaw clenched - that was a question he hoped no-one would ask, because the answer was one he never wanted to say, or hear. He took a long breath through his nose, and slowly shook his head. "Nothing, Hiccup. There is no next move."

Hiccup stopped in his tracks at the barn door, tilted his head and frowned, like he was expecting something else. "Come again? I thought we'd be-"

Turning, Jack gave him exasperated."What do you want me to say, Hiccup - that we're going to pick up where we left off and continue the fight?" he sighed.

Hiccup shrugged and gently threw his arms in the air like it was obvious. "Well...yeah!"

"Newsflash, Hic, not gonna happen. We've got no ship, no home. We used to be over thirty, now we are just four - in fact, with Anna grieving and Koz...maybe it's just you and me. We are so far behind enemy lines it's not even funny, hiding out in safe-houses and waiting for Unity to come and finish us off. _Nothing_ we do right now is going to make a difference, because there's just not enough of us left." Jack said with nothing but brutal honesty.

Hiccup's face twisted to something like Jack had just taken all of his optimism and hope, and ripped it apart in front of him. "Face it, Hiccup. We're done. The Ghosts as a team...we're nothing but a memory."

* * *

_(Acting on your best behavior;)_

_(Turn your back on Mother Nature;)_

_(Everybody wants to rule the world.)_

* * *

The woodland behind her parents' house was always Astrid's sanctuary whenever she needed to be alone. The cold night breeze rustling through the branches above her, the scent of damp wood on the fresh clean air, and no sounds other than what was expected of nature untouched by war and strife - it all helped to give the illusion of being a world away from her life. Sat on a gnarled log with her elbows on her knees, and clutching a tall glass of synthetic whiskey in one hand, she drew her bangs away from her forehead with the other and then palmed away her tears.

She wished it was all a dream, some horrible nightmare she had yet to wake up from. Having to act the role of oppressor, of Unity's bleeding edge against her kind was bad enough, but for it to culminate in the Purge…

She hated it all; Unity, the Purge, the Hammer...the Valkyrie Program. Most of all...she hated _herself,_ for having to make it look believable. For giving into the adrenaline and fury of battle.

So lost was she in reproachful thought, she was unaware of the sound of breaking sticks and obscenely heavy steps behind her until the intruder was less than six feet away. Yet, when it broke a particularly thick branch, Astrid was not scared. She relaxed. She _smiled._

"Hey there, girl. I missed you." she said softly. "I missed you so much."

* * *

_(It's my own desires;)_

_(It's my own remorse.)_

_(Help me to decide.)_

* * *

"Maybe…" Rapunzel offered lamely, "Maybe they'll be understanding."

Merida frowned. "How'd ye figure that, lass?"

"Well...we didn't know that Hans was gonna blow up their ship, we didn't know what was gonna happen to the other teams. If they realise...if they understand that we had to follow orders, maybe they'll-"

"No."

All eyes turned to Elsa, whose face was taut with determination and purpose as she stared unblinkingly at the floor, her arms folded while she leaned on the wall. Rapunzel was right in a manner of speaking, and she knew it, but pedantry and optimism weren't going to cut it - especially in the eyes of the Ghosts.

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked.

"We need to take responsibility, not absolve ourselves of it. No, we didn't expect or want the Purge to happen, for all those people to die. No, we didn't know what the Inquisitors would do to the other teams. It doesn't matter. We still captured their friends - personally - and our boots were the first on the _Guardian Star's_ deck. We still physically injured them. We need to make it right. I don't know how, and I don't know if we'll even succeed, but we have to try - and the first step is accepting that even if we didn't pull the trigger, we still had a role in it. To do otherwise is a lie."

"You know," Astrid remarked as she relaxed back into Elsa's sofa, "you've gone up about six notches in my book for that."

"What does that take me to?"

"Six." Astrid deadpanned.

* * *

_(Help me make the most of freedom…)_

_(...and of pleasure.)_

_(Nothing ever lasts forever.)_

* * *

"Fuel line to the starboard engine's been ruptured!" Astrid yelled over the ear-piercing screech of the _Valhalla's_ alarm system as she frantically pressed the switches on the console between the cockpit seats, desperately trying to compensate for the damage by diverting the energy through the secondary lines, "We've lost power to the starboard side - I can't compensate!"

Elsa wrenched the stick to the left with all her might, gritting her teeth with the effort. The _Valhalla_ resisted and disobeyed, feeling heavier on the stick by the second. "I'm losing control of her!" she shouted. "Altitude's dropping!"

The _Valhalla's_ starboard side dipped sharply, and Elsa found herself shunted to the left coupled with the rise of her stomach past her racing and thumping heart…

...all thanks to the inertia of the _Valhalla_ as, bereft of her wing, she began to spin uncontrollably and plummet to the unforgiving earth.

* * *

_(Everybody wants to rule the world.)_

* * *

The dark alleyway felt ominous and constricting, like the walls were closing in around her. Worse still, there was no sign of him - it was like he had rounded the corner and disappeared into thin air. Elsa bent double with her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath, and her eyes darted to every window, door, nook and cranny in her sight.

"I just," she shouted - or at least attempted to through the panting, "I just want to talk!"

There was a split-second flash of red that _looked_ like it shot down her vision. She looked down at the floor and furrowed her brow as a red dot, bright against the black asphalt, slowly inched its way closer and closer. It travelled onto her shoes, and crept up her legs. She straightened up, closely watching the little light traverse its way over her hips, up her abdomen...and stopped straight over her heart.

She took a sharp, shaking breath - laser sight.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, contradicting the drop of her stomach to the floor. Somehow, she knew to look up...and there he was, silhouetted against the huge evening lights fixed to the Upper City's support platform. Knelt at the very edge of the apartment building's roof and peering down the scope of a rifle she had never seen before.

* * *

_(There's a room where the light won't find you,)_

_(Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down.)_

_(When they do, I'll be right behind you...)_

* * *

"He shouldn't have stayed." Anna said quietly. "He should have been behind us. He'd be alive if…"

"Anna…" Jack stepped forward, and reached out to hold her shoulder. "It's not his fault."

She shook off his hand and recoiled, like the very touch burned her. She whirled on her feet, her arms protectively holding her chest and stared at him with shimmering eyes of blame, anguish and fury.

"You're right," she hissed. "It's not his fault. It's _yours."_

* * *

_(So glad we've almost made it...)_

* * *

Kozmotis stalked behind Jack, yelling every step of the way. "What do I think? I think you're a half-measure. I think you're a coward. I think you don't have the stomach to get the job done, and I think Kristoff made a mistake having _you_ as his second-in-command!"

Jack snarled, clenching his shaking fists. "Back off, Koz."

"I knew you were _weak._ You hit them, and they get back up. I do, and they _stay down!"_

Red was all Jack saw, and before his brain could materialise a thought he had turned to drive a fist into Kozmotis' jaw.

* * *

_(So sad we had to fade it…)_

* * *

Taking two steps back Elsa stared, open mouthed and stunned.

The woman gazed back. Golden blonde hair that framed a healthy pink face and a gentle smile. Dark blue eyes that saw her, yet gave Elsa a chill as though she was looking _through_ her. Against the dull grey metal walls, thick pipe systems and bright yet pitifully useless lights, her pink off-shoulder dress stood out like a rose in a ruined building. So out of place. A vision in sunlight, against the dark of night.

And when she spoke, she spoke with a thousand voices, like the eerie voice of a legion.

"I am Sleeping Beauty."

* * *

_(Everybody wants to rule the world.)_


	30. The Hour of the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astrid’s Theme: “Main Theme”, Assassin’s Creed 3 OST.  
>  Anna’s Theme: “Forgive Yourself”, Quantum of Solace OST (1:10 onwards)

_"Have you ever heard of the hour of the wolf? My father told me about it. It's the time between 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning. You can't sleep, and all you can see is the troubles and the problems and the ways that your life should've gone but didn't. All you can hear is the sound of your own heart. I've been living in the hour of the wolf for seven days, Lyta. Seven days. The wolf and I are now on a first-name basis. In times like this, my father used to take one large glass of vodka before bed. To keep the wolf away, he said. And then he would take three very small drinks of vodka, just in case she had cubs while she was waiting outside. It doesn't work."_

— _Commander Susan Ivanova, Babylon 5_

_Of Ghosts and Valkyries - Act II_

" **The Hour of the Wolf"**

_Elsa's feet pounded the dusty ground as she navigated the thin passageways between the settlement shacks, searching for anyone in dire need of medical attention. Look for the quiet ones, her father reminded her in her mind. They are the ones who need it most._

_Unity had arrived fifteen minutes ago, and as soon as the first troops entered the settlement, they started shooting. Merciless, accurate red shots felling men, women and children alike. The screams began soon after. Pleas for mercy and life, ignored and punished._

_She rounded a corner. Her lungs ached with pain, her throat raw, her bare feet bleeding. She was supposed to care for these people, yet they were dropping like flies. She slowed her pace and dropped to her knees next to two people in tattered clothing slumped against a rusty corrugated metal wall - the closest one coughed and choked as he clutched a plate-sized patch of crimson on his abdomen, while the furthest stared vacantly at the opposite wall, lifeless. "It's going to be okay," she soothed the dying man, and proceeded to tear off a strip from her dirty beige cotton cloak and press it to the wound. His head whipped to stare in bewilderment at her, and Elsa tried to ignore the blood streaming from the right corner of his mouth. Liar, his eyes told her, before they went empty._

_The rat-at-at of gunfire answered the zipping of pulse bolts, reminding her of the Ghosts and their arrival not long ago. She looked up whilst forcing the bundled strip of cloth upon the man's gut wound. They had tried their best, the abnormal squad, but in the end they were outnumbered and outgunned. Harvester lay slumped against the wall of the general store on the other side of the street, a gaping crimson hole in his chest courtesy of a tank blast. Near him, Pitch Black was sprawled over the floor with three arrows in his spine._

_There was a thunderous explosion, startling her into looking up. A flash of light in the inky black sky. A shriek of agony, and a falling star of flame._

_They were the last, Frost and Streak. The last of the Ghosts, fighting back to back in the middle of the street. Their strange rifles sang over and over again, dropping troops with pinpoint accuracy. She watched in awe as they fluidly changed positions - Streak ducked under Frost's rifle as he whirled around, and they both resumed fire. When they ran out of bullets, they switched to their sidearms, and when_ they _ran dry, they used their powers. It was, once Elsa tuned out the sounds of screaming, yelling and explosions, beautiful to see._

_But beauty does not last long in Unity. The ground shook as it erupted near where the indomitable Ghosts fought, throwing them several feet into the air to crumple like discarded puppets on the hard ground. Elsa darted to her feet to help the dazed Streak, who was sluggish in her attempts to rise, but she tripped over the dead villager's leg and hit the ground hard enough to rip the air from her lungs. A shadow moved behind Streak, attracting Elsa's eyes, and as she scrambled to her knees she opened her mouth to yell a panicked warning - but the fall had winded her._

_As the female Ghost stood, her entire body jerked open when a long sword was forced through her back hard enough for it to pierce her heart and protrude from her black vest-covered chest. "No!" Elsa screamed, watching helplessly as Streak looked down in blank shock at the bloodsoaked blade sticking out of her ribs, moments before it was ruthlessly yanked out. She fell to her knees, her life ebbing away with startling speed, and dust was kicked into the air as she collapsed to her side. Elsa covered her mouth, tears streaming as she stared into the empty, vacant eyes of Snow Queen's latest victim._

_Frost roared her name. Elsa looked up at the sound, and watched as he whirled his staff round in the hopes of blasting Snow Queen to kingdom come - only for the one called Viking to run behind him and slice into the back of his left knee with her axe as she passed. Yelling in pain, he dropped to his knee, just before Goldilocks jammed her electro-escrima sticks into the side of his chest as she passed by the other side - and there were two wet thuds as Bear emerged from the shadows of the general store and embedded two arrows into his spine._

_Paralysed, she watched as the valiant and injured Frost held himself up by his staff, sucking in labored breaths. His staff, a symbol of his gift, was then yanked away by Viking and ruthlessly snapped in two over her knee before it was tossed in front of him - a newer symbol of loss and defeat._

_Then the most peculiar thing happened. Beaten, alone and soon to die...he laughed. Even as Snow Queen advanced on him, blood dripping from her sword, he smirked and cackled at her. Defiant to the end._

_Stopping just in front of him, Snow Queen drew her sword high and, holding it tip-down, plunged it into the laughing Ghost's shoulder straight down to his heart._

_It was only a few seconds of gurgled laughter that felt like an eternity, but soon Frost's head slumped down, and his laughter died with him._

_Elsa felt like another part of her had been ripped away. Terror gripped her mind and muscles, so much so that she was oblivious to the explosions and fireballs engulfing the settlement around her. She screamed until her throat was raw, watching her hope and optimism in the forms of Frost and Streak evaporate before her eyes._

_With hands that still gripped the embedded sword, Snow Queen turned her head, following the vocal agony. As Elsa's voice gave out, she sucked in breath after breath between tearful sobs and whimpers, her eyes alternating between the blood pooling around Streak's body and the young Frost held in place by a blade. The Valkyrie lifted her boot and used it to push against Frost's chest for enough leverage to yank her sword free - and when she did, she turned and advanced upon the broken Elsa with her weapon held to the side and her trench coat rippling in the breeze._

_Her sobs dwindling, Elsa looked up just as the Valkyrie crouched down on one knee in front of her. Fear coursed through her being from head to toe, paralysing her further, and her stomach twisted as she gazed into the reflective goggles of the Valkyrie mask. Snow Queen tilted her head as though regarding a curiosity. Elsa swallowed. She willed her arms to move, but they felt like lead._

_Snow Queen's left hand moved up to draw her hood back. She unclipped the mask - one buckle, two - and feathered her fingers across the faceplate to pull it away._

_Elsa took a sharp, terrified breath and nearly fell backwards in shock when she came face to face...with_ herself. _Her reflection, but warped by darkness, death and hate. Her skin was alabaster, her lips a cool grey, and her ice blue eyes were so pale they could easily have been two black dots in a sea of white. Dark blue veins lay visible from the corner of her lips, which twisted into a vicious smile._

" _Why so surprised?" she said, her voice exuding playful malevolence. "Isn't this what you wanted?"_

_Snow Queen's shoulder moved, and an instant later Elsa took a sharp intake of breath as white hot pain burst forth from her stomach. Trembling, she looked down to her abdomen, where the sword had been slipped in so deep that hilt met skin._

_She gasped and fought for air with each passing second. Her strength began to wane, as the blood poured from inside her. Leaning forward, the malicious Snow Queen whispered into her ear, "There was only one way this would end, Elsa."_

_And then, violently, she twisted the blade._

* * *

 

_3:00 am_

Gasping a sharp breath, Elsa shot bolt upright in bed, hands snapping to her abdomen as she panted hard. Confused, her mind fuzzy and blank, her wide eyes darted every which way in the hopes of getting a sense of where she was. Her surroundings were dark; shadows of objects cast on the wall by the ethereal moonlight streaming in appeared to move of their own accord. Silence, broken only by her hard breathing, oppressed her sense of hearing. Disoriented and, quite frankly, scared, Elsa felt the unwanted sensation of something crawling under her heavily sweating skin.

It was only when her eyes landed on the Uni-Com's glass interface, its standby mode giving off a faint blue glow that, with a sigh of relief, she remembered where she was - on her living room floor in her improvised bed. She wasn't in a battle-ravaged settlement. She didn't witness her sister and her once-enemy-now-whatever be murdered by her corrupted mirror.

Her abdomen hadn't been pierced by her own blade - a reassurance reinforced by the smoothness of her damp skin and the welcome lack of blood on her hands as she looked down at them.

Her breaths slowing in relief, yet still coming in mild pants, Elsa leaned forward and buried her forehead in her hands, trying to make sense of what her nightmare had assaulted her with for the third night in a row. First, it was on the _Star's_ flight deck. Second night, the Depot. Third? A random settlement. Each time she saw Anna, though didn't recognise her or her team, and each time the Valkyries appeared and slaughtered them all - saving Elsa for last.

She wasn't sure how much more she could take, watching her sister die by her hand over and over again.

She waited for her heartbeat to cease racing and thumping in her chest. Her mouth was arid, as was her throat - a product of screaming, whimpering or talking in her sleep, she suspected - so, as per her newly developed but unwanted night-time routine, she waited until her body was on an even keel before clambering to her feet in the pursuit of a glass of water. Her mind wasn't steady, though...but what else was new?

As she leaned to curl her feet under her, however, a dull pain blossomed throughout her chest which caused a hissed intake of breath and one hell of a wince - even three days on, the bruises sustained by combat with Frost and her sister still reminded her of every second of that battle. What she had lost.

Grimacing, she pushed herself up and carefully made her way to the first floor bathroom adjacent to the kitchen at the other end of Snowfield House. As she approached the glossy white door, it slid to the side in silent obedience, prompting the bathroom lights to automatically activate and bathe the room in a pleasant but artificial bright glow - bright enough to force her eyes to squint. Tiled in alternating white and blue, with a proximity-activated shower and motion-sensitive bath at the far end, and the toilet and sink to her immediate right, it was a pleasant but ultimately practical bathroom that looked as impeccable as when it was first installed - undoubtedly thanks to the miniature cleaning drones that tootled around doing their business whenever no-one was home.

Elsa waved her hand under the cold faucet, and cupped the water that gently streamed out. She bent down to take a few gulps of the cold, refreshing liquid, cupped and then drank some more, and in an effort to center herself and wash away the unsettled feeling she splashed a handful in her face. She allowed it to slide down and off her jaw while she closed her eyes, trying to stave off the still-vivid images of her nightmare, and the loneliness of waking from it in an empty house, with no-one to comfort her.

It was when she opened her eyes and caught her reflection in the mirror above the sink, whilst internally thanking her stars it was not her deadly alter ego from her dreams, she finally noticed that which she had been trying to avoid despite the nigh constant ache it radiated - the purplish bruise on the left side of her face, sustained from Frost's blind staff swing. Even _looking_ at it was bad enough, but when she gingerly touched it with two fingers and winced from the inevitable pain, it intensified a heavy ball of regret and guilt that sat in the pit of her stomach, having been there ever since she returned home. So, naturally, when she turned to approach the floor-to-ceiling mirror opposite the sink, pulled off her dark grey T-shirt and frowned at the myriad bruises that adorned her topless body, the iron weight in her stomach only grew heavier. The one sat between her breasts was particularly nasty, thanks to a full-strength boot from her _sister._

_That_ one threw in some anguish in with the regret, and solidified the inescapable truth from which she had been futilely trying to escape - they were painful medals of combat that she may not have needed to wear.

Slipping the shirt back over her chest, the loneliness began to creep into her heart once more. Merida had mentioned, upon the team receiving their week-long leave papers, she was going to hole herself up in her apartment, much the same as Astrid and Rapunzel. Ostensibly they would remain connected, to help each other process that awful night...but Elsa's Uni-Com had remained decidedly call-free. The worst part was, she had a suspicion it was down to _her,_ and everything she was before that night.

So, she wondered, maybe it would be worth putting the feelers out. It wasn't exactly like she could lose anything else.

Once her face had been dried with the hand-towel by the sink, Elsa quietly left the bathroom, causing the lights to switch themselves off and the door to close behind her. Returning to the somewhat-sanctity of her living room, she approached the hibernating Uni-Com and issued the order, "Activate."

The device booted up instantly, though the screen's glow only brightened halfway. " _Good morning, Miss Snowfield. The time is zero-three-fifteen. You are unusually awake."_

"So it would seem," Elsa said.

" _Indeed. Command?"_

"The three Valkyries on my contact list - Rapunzel Corona, Merida Dunbroch and Astrid Hofferson - is one of them awake?" she asked.

" _Checking,"_ The interface's speech line shrank into the corner, and was replaced by three pictures of her subordinates in a vertical column, each with their addresses and contact details. Only one of the pictures possessed a faint green hue. " _Miss Rapunzel Corona appears to be awake. Would you like to establish a connection?"_

Elsa breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Of the three Valkyries, Rapunzel was the one she was hoping would be awake; Astrid still gave her the impression she was persona non grata, and she didn't particularly want a figurative kick up the rear end via Merida's straightforward honesty - something that Astrid wouldn't hesitate to give her, either. Rapunzel was the least likely to remind her just how much she screwed up. "Please," she requested.

Astrid and Merida's pictures shrank away while Rapunzel's took centre stage, along with the words _DIALLING…_ flashing gently. Elsa breathed deeply through her nose and out of her mouth, tapping a light rhythm against her leg. Maybe it was a mistake reaching out to her. Maybe she was destined to be alone in every meaning of the word.

Maybe it was exactly what she needed to do. In an instant, Rapunzel's picture along with most of the screen dissolved away, and the blue-hued rendering of her head and shoulders replaced it. Rapunzel regarded her with mild surprise, though Elsa could easily tell she was worn out. " _Elsa? I wasn't expecting you to call."_

Offering a lame shrug, Elsa's lips curled into a ghost of a smile. "Neither was I, if I am honest."

Rapunzel frowned, a wave of concern across her young features. " _It's after three in the morning, is everything okay?"_

"Oh - er - yes, everything is," Elsa trailed off, internally chiding herself for automatically hiding the truth, somewhat counterproductively, "not fine. I...since I returned home, I have not been able to sleep properly."

Rapunzel smiled, and uttered a single chuckle. " _Join the club,"_ she said, " _we have cookies. Or...had. I kind of ate them all when I got home. Sorry. We do have sandwiches, though."_

Elsa giggled quietly. "Sandwiches sound lovely."

" _You say that now,"_ Rapunzel said, " _but they're not exactly edible when I make them. For, like,_ any _living thing. So, what's up?"_

"I...I was...I needed someone to talk to."

Rapunzel's lips thinned, and her brow furrowed in pity. " _I'm all ears - but hold that thought. Some new software was pushed out yesterday, and I've been itching to try it - but with Merida and Astrid, you know, incommunicado, I guess now's my chance. One sec…"_

Rapunzel looked up, and Elsa saw her hands move from left to right and back again, ostensibly cycling through her Uni-Com's menu. She heard the brunette mumbling " _nope, nope, that's not it…"_ before a triumphant " _Got it! Watch this."_

Immediately her image on the screen disappeared, and for a few seconds Elsa felt abruptly surprised and a little bit stung...until a faint cone of light streamed out from the holographic projector. She stepped back and watched in wonder as a humanoid shape was literally written into the air by the projector's work, and it wasn't long before a life-sized, blue-hued holographic rendering of Rapunzel stood in her living room. Her translucent eyes were wide with fascination, perfectly mirroring Elsa's, and she was dressed in what looked like overalls.

" _Oh, now_ this _is cool,"_ she said gleefully, " _you're, like, right here in my apartment. This is weird. But totally cool. Can you see me?"_

Void of a response, Elsa could only nod.

" _Awesome!"_ Rapunzel cheered and bounced on her feet. " _See, girl talk is much better when we're in the same room. Sorta. So what's up?"_

The fascination and distraction of the newly pushed and clearly functioning update swiftly washed aside in her mind, returning her to the reason she called in the first place. "I am...unsure of how to say this," she said slowly. Sensing the need to get semi-comfortable, especially with what she anticipated would come, she descended to the floor and crossed her legs, resting her elbows on her knees while she wondered how to articulate what she felt. "My plan for when our mission was complete was to find my sister and bring her home. That, and get revenge on Frost was all I wanted to do, it was the reason I woke up every morning - so when our team would eventually disband, I knew what I was to do," she said, staring with prickling eyes at a fixed point on the floor before her.

Rapunzel's holo-figure descended to the floor, illuminating the direct area around her with a soft blue glow and sat on her left hip whilst supporting herself with her left hand. Watched closely by the projection, Elsa continued, "Now I don't even have that. There's a very real possibility the Ghosts are innocent, and...with Anna being a member of them…"

" _You don't know what to do anymore,"_ Rapunzel said. Slowly, Elsa nodded, alarmed by the astute accuracy.

"No - and if I am to be perfectly candid...part of me wishes I was dead."

Rapunzel audibly gasped, and even without focusing Elsa spied the presence of an intangible arm on her knee. " _Don't say that, Elsa. Don't ever say that."_

"Why not?" Elsa said with a cracking voice, and looked up with burning eyes at the semi-translucent face of her teammate and current confidante. "After what happened...part of me wishes Frost killed me when he had the chance, so I wouldn't have to live with knowing Anna hates me."

" _How do you know for sure she hates you?"_ Rapunzel attempted to point out.

Elsa gave her a look, which was less patronising and more a plea for understanding. "After what I did...why wouldn't she?"

" _But do you know that for sure? All you're saying is what_ you _think she feels,"_ Rapunzel said, " _but you won't know exactly how she feels about you until you see her."_

Elsa sighed. "Rapunzel…"

The hologram held up a hand which, though intangible, still had the desired effect of stopping her in her tracks. " _Look, Elsa, I have to maintain a certain optimism - especially now - otherwise I'll lose myself in how horrible the world is, and spend every night painting burning ships like I was doing when you called."_

Pausing, Rapunzel reached over to somewhere in the general area of Elsa's sofa, and as she pulled back a translucent blue apple had materialised in her hand. Taking a hearty bite, with a half-full mouth she continued, " _And what that optimism tells me is that no matter what's happened, your sister's love for you is strong. I don't know for certain what she feels - except, you know, the obvious - but I have to believe your bond is stronger than anything. Otherwise, what's the point?"_

"In other words," Elsa said, smiling softly, "I have to hope."

Rapunzel clicked her fingers, an oddly silent gesture, and pointed her apple at her. " _Bingo. Ten points."_

Elsa had to admit, Rapunzel was doing a pretty good job of injecting some much-needed confidence. The thing was - it was easy for her. She didn't have a sibling who watched their home sink to the Atlantic's floor. "I don't know. I can't help but think it's impossible," she said, lamenting.

The in-reality-brunette bob waved and jiggled as Rapunzel shook her head. " _Things are only impossible if we believe them to be."_

"Where did you get that little slice of cliché?" Elsa scoffed.

" _My dad,"_ Rapunzel said with a curled eyebrow and and thinned lips. Elsa instantly felt sheepish. " _He also taught me to work out what things I wanted to do, and sort them between what I can do soon, and what'll take me a while. So - what do_ you _want to do?"_

The answer was easy. "Bring my sister home."

Rapunzel nodded sagely, smiling as though it was obvious. " _Figures - and we know that's gonna be a while 'til that happens, right?"_

"Right," Elsa sighed, deflated. As much as she hated to admit it, Rapunzel was bang on the money.

" _Good,"_ there was the crunch of another bite taken out of the holo-apple, " _so that's one for the take-a-while box. We can put that aside. What else?"_

"A grilled cheese sandwich," Elsa said rather facetiously, yet was struck with the sudden craving for one. Thanks, body.

" _There's a pretty cool invention called a kitchen,"_ Rapunzel snark-smirked, " _you might just have one."_

Elsa narrowed one eye and gave her a sneer. "Funny," she said, ignoring how she left herself wide open for a sarcastic comeback. Looking away, she pondered her options; with most of them aiming to bring Anna home - in fact, that was all she wanted, it was tricky for her to really _think._

But the longer she did, the stronger the seed of doubt that had grown into a sapling of skepticism became, and she remembered how, in the _Star's_ mess hall, both Frost and Anna had vehemently denied their involvement in her parents' deaths. Consumed by rage, pain and supposedly righteous vengeance, she had ignored it - until the past three days, where the only company she had was her own mind.

As the myriad thoughts of Anna slowly swam aside, the answer was clear.

Her back stiffened, and her eyes focused inextricably on the intangible blues belonging to her visitor-yet-not. "I want to find out what really happened to my parents," she announced quietly, but purposefully. "If what the Ghosts say is true - someone else is responsible. I want to find out who."

Rapunzel rolled back slightly as she dipped her head, and clapped both hands at her. " _There's my Valkyrie Leader. So..."_ she paused to take another bite, and tossed the core at what Elsa assumed to be her trash, yet was actually Elsa's Uni-Com where it disappeared into the air.

What Rapunzel said next, rubbing her hands as a grin swept across her youthful face, swelled Elsa's heart so much that the depression and fatigue, the loneliness and guilt was pushed aside in favour of solidarity, sisterhood and confidence. It showed her that, after all the bad calls she had made over the past three years, contacting Rapunzel was not one of them.

" _...when do we start?"_

* * *

 

Sometimes, after a hard day - or three years, in her case - all someone wants to do is envelop themselves in the embrace of their family.

Astrid didn't even have _that._ Rapunzel and Merida may have had the lucky privilege of being able to bask in the warmth of family love, but Astrid had no such safety net. Neither did Elsa, when she came to think of it.

Having arrived at the Hofferson residence in the early evening, situated roughly a hundred miles west of New Arendelle, she was greeted with who she expected but still managed to instil a dull ache in her heart - her family maid, Helga.

"Welcome home, Miss Hofferson," the burly brunette had said, upon opening the door when Astrid arrived. Well, more plump than burly; she had evidently ceased the daily fitness regime she used to do upon the latter's departure for the Program, "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise," Astrid had answered flatly, adjusting the strap of her personal effects bag on her right shoulder, giving her an emotionless expression.

Helga's face had softened measurably, and the pity in her eyes had irritated Astrid more than she would have liked. "I informed Mr and Mrs Hofferson of your visit as soon as you called. Unfortunately they are not here to welcome you home as they have been called away on an urgent matter. They have asked me to convey their apologies."

Astrid's response was a shrug, and an unsurprised grunt.

"Furthermore," the maid continued, and the Valkyrie's temper had bubbled to the point she swept past on the way to her room, "they regret to inform you that they will not be here for evening meal."

Her response was an angry yet jaded snap as she walked away toward the stairs in the middle of the foyer, without even giving Helga the dignity of turning around. "Sure. What else is new?"

She had known she shouldn't have been so harsh with her; after all, on the days where Mom and Dad weren't around - which was probably nearly all of them - Helga was the closest thing Astrid had to family. Maybe that was why she was so close with Merida and Rapunzel, and had so much friction with Elsa; the former two she could gel with, but the latter represented everything she disliked.

A distant authority figure.

Eventually, though, the solitude had become too much to bear. Reruns of Unity holo-comedies, her collection of _Unitas_ albums - she didn't like the regime, but the music wasn't bad - and general sole-company were only reinforcing how alone she was, not distracting her from it.

So, at three in the morning, she had taken a stroll into the nature reserve-slash-untouched woodland behind the house that sprawled for a good few miles, hoping that it would do a better job.

It was always Astrid's sanctuary whenever she needed to be 'free'. The cold night breeze rustling through the branches above her, the scent of damp wood on the fresh clean air, and no sounds other than what was expected of nature untouched by war and strife - it all usually helped to give the illusion of being a world away from her life.

Sat on a gnarled log with her elbows on her knees, and clutching a tall glass of synthetic whiskey in one hand, she drew her bangs away from her forehead with the other and then palmed away her tears, as not even the woodland could wipe away the image of that doll from her mind. The face of blank terror on that young boy, the one that bravely took potshots at her to save Pitch. The gigantic vessel, broken and screeching as it burned to death before sinking below the Atlantic's surface. Elsa's expression of wide-eyed horror, and Frost's warning.

She wished it was all a dream, some horrible nightmare she had yet to wake up from. Having to act the role of oppressor, of Unity's bleeding edge against her kind was bad enough, but for it to culminate in the Purge…

She hated it all; Unity, the Purge, the Hammer...the Valkyrie Program. Most of all...she hated _herself,_ for having to make it look believable. For giving into the adrenaline and fury of battle.

So lost was she in reproachful thought, she was unaware of the sound of breaking sticks and obscenely heavy steps behind her until the intruder was less than six feet away. Yet, when it broke a particularly thick branch, Astrid was not scared. She relaxed. She _smiled._

"Hey there, girl. I missed you." she said softly. "I missed you so much."

She rose carefully to her feet and turned to face her old friend, the one who had kept her sane since she was fifteen. Blue and yellow scales that glimmered in the moonlight. Flattened spines that adorned her body from head to tail. Ochre bat-like wings, and sharp, vicious teeth that never _once_ drew Astrid's blood, even when she was scared.

Eyes that regarded her with happiness, from a side-turned head.

"Stormfly…" Astrid whispered in quiet joy, her smile widening. She held out her hand.

The creature's head quickly bobbed up and down, before she stomped the last few feet and nuzzled her nose into Astrid's palm. Of course, that wasn't enough for the young Valkyrie - she promptly threw her arms around Stormfly's head and held her close. Stormfly chittered and squawked in response.

"How you been doing, you been okay without me?" Astrid asked once she pulled away, and stroked along the large animal's flattened spines. When Stormfly chattered her answer, she said, "Of course you have. You're my brave, beautiful girl."

Stormfly dipped to nudge her nose against Astrid's chest, just before her entire body shook with a rustle of clicks. She emitted a series of low chirrups and growls. "I know, girl. I hated it too, when they called me away."

The thin, vertical pupils of her friend dipped, as did her tail which up until then had been curled up, as well as her wings that now touched the floor. Translation - Stormfly sad. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth," Astrid said, resting her forehead on the creature's nose, "I wished you were there too. Maybe," she trailed off as she pulled her head back to admire the smooth scales on Stormfly's head, "you'd have seen the other one."

Stormfly stiffened, and her head shot up so her eyes, as big as her hand and widened in surprise, could meet Astrid's. "Yeah," the Valkyrie said, nodding, "There's another. Like you, but different. Black and...cat-like. Maybe one day you can meet them…"

Astrid looked down. Her smile fell, and her strokes slowed. Frowning, trying to hold back the resurgent burning in her eyes, she murmured, "Maybe one day, we'll be free…"

As though sensing her downcast mood, Stormfly nudged her head into Astrid's chest with enough vigor to make the young woman stumble back a step. She chittered and rawked, though Astrid didn't need to be able to understand the creature's ' _speech'_ to know what she wanted - the tiny jumps from both of her human-sized legs was enough. Her frown becoming one of amusement and mild incredulity, Astrid looked at her companion out of the corner of her eye as she said, "You sure you wanna play _Trust_? I'm faster than I used to be."

Stormfly let loose a series of growls sounding almost _insulted._ "No, I do trust you," Astrid said.

The huge creature bobbed her entire body excitedly, spread her wings wide and then began 'hoofing' the ground with her clawed feet, akin to an enthusiastic horse. "Oh, so _that's_ how it is? Okay…" Astrid trailed off, wearing a crooked smirk.

And then, like a pulse bolt from a pistol, she ran.

With a spontaneous gust of wind that could only mean Stormfly's launch to the black sky, through the winding, well-beaten path that led from her clearing deeper into the woodland, Astrid sprinted as hard as she could. She felt the rush of blood in her ears from her rapid, thumping heart, sucking in lungfuls of breath as she pushed herself harder and harder. Sticks snapped under thudding feet while cold air rushed over her cheeks. Moonlight her only guide, she dodged roots and leapt over stones, all the while wearing the happiest grin on her face. The path weaved to and fro, before taking a shallow bend that opened up to Astrid's favourite place in the woodland - a small cliff overlooking a calm, glass-like lake.

She raced the wind to the edge, ignoring the sharp pain in her chest from how hard she pushed herself, and she caught the most fleeting glimpse of a perfect, undisturbed reflection of a moonlit and starry sky before, with all her might and faith, she reached the raggedy edge and _jumped._

For all of three seconds, she was falling. Unaided, helpless, at the mercy of gravity.

Those three seconds later, she was _flying._ Stormfly had swooped under her just in time. Suffering the sensation of her stomach attempting to escape through her legs, Astrid's hands leashed out and grasped where Stormfly's humeri met her body, and ignored the pain in her chest from the impact of such an impromptu landing.

Stormfly flew straight and level across the lake, low enough for Astrid to hear the sound of her claws cutting into the still water, as she always did to let her rider recover from the leap of faith - or, as it was known to them, _trust._ Astrid pushed herself up whilst holding onto the creature's wings, revelling in freedom and liberation, the overwhelming joy only Stormfly could conjure that chased away her worries, her fears and her loneliness.

She circled around the lake's edge at a healthy forty-five degree bank, whooping loud and proud before pulling slightly on the wing bones. Understanding loud and clear, Stormfly pulled up into the air in a wide spiral, high enough for a decent climb but without causing Astrid to lose her grip and fall. Closing her eyes, Astrid let herself dwell in the complete confidence in her winged friend, making the most of every second of their reunion. For it had been too long, even if it was only a matter of days.

Stormfly's flight slowed to a hover. Feeling their momentum consist only of an up-and-down bob, Astrid relaxed her body and opened her eyes to one of the most precious sights in her mind - nothing but a glowing moon, beginning its transition to a waning gibbous, a black sheet of ink with glittering lights, and the world far below her. One small slip could mean her death, but she was not scared, as she knew Stormfly would never let any harm come to her.

For a few precious moments, pulling in exhilarated breaths whilst she listened to her raging heart, Astrid knew the sweet taste of liberation. The sense that her problems, her woes and her trials were all below her.

As the adrenaline began to ebb away, though, realism took its place; her problems were _below,_ not _behind._ She knew that eventually they would have to land. Stormfly would be forced to retreat deeper into the woods, and Astrid would have to return to her life of violence and fury as the bleeding edge of a tyrant. Her smile fell and her heart pulsed with an ache, feeling as though a tangible chain had sprouted from the earth below and wrapped itself around it.

Inevitability.

Stormfly rawked and chattered, sensing her rider's emotions. Astrid looked forlornly at the spines protruding from the back of her scaly head, and scratched behind the centre spine. "I know, girl," she soothed, trying to hide the despondency in her tone, "I want to fly forever with you too. Maybe one day, we will."

She drew her eyes away and looked off into the starry sky, rested her gaze upon the ethereal moon, and sighed, "Maybe one day we'll be free."

* * *

 

Holding a loose fist near the barn door, Jack paused and considered his options.

It was three-fifteen in the morning, and though neither he nor Anna was asleep - he could still hear the muffled sounds of crying from her room every now and then, which _killed_ him when she wouldn't open the door for him to help - and though he wasn't likely to get any sleep before his unflappable biological clock hit six a.m., it was entirely possible that Hiccup and Toothless had managed to catch some sleep inside the barn they'd appropriated almost as soon as the team arrived after a long, silent drive.

He had no idea if Kozmotis was sleeping, nor what he was actually _doing,_ come to think of it. Practically the first thing the slender Ghost had done once they arrived, was to take the hover-jeep they stole from the first settlement they came across when they landed in Unity territory, mutter something about putting someone's mind at rest, and drive away.

No, Hiccup was probably asleep. The only one of his team to be as such. Hopefully the only one without the nightmares. Jack exhaled loudly through his nose and let his arm fall away, but just as he turned to go back into the house and battle his mind for sleep, a muffled voice swam out from inside the barn.

"Come on in, Jack."

He turned back, and shot an incredulous look at the closed door. "Jeez, Hiccup - how the hell did you know I was there?"

"Temperature drop." Hiccup answered casually. "Plus, Toothless knows what you smell like. So you coming in, or am I gonna be having a conversation with a barn door?"

Jack rolled his eyes, and obliged.

The inside of the barn was illuminated in the dim light of a free standing torch, enough for Hiccup to have an easier time navigating the interior while not giving away his occupancy to outside eyes. Probably took it from the _Fairy_ when they left it, out of fuel, near the eastern coast. A half-dozing Toothless was curled up at the back, his tail across his eyes which fluttered open every now and then.

Half-laid-half-sat against a bunch of pillows and blankets, with one hand behind his head and looking impossibly relaxed given the circumstances, Hiccup closely scrutinised a gadget Jack had yet to identify in the torch's dim glow. "I'm guessing you couldn't sleep either," he said.

Jack closed the door behind him. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You," Hiccup said with a grunt as he hefted himself up to _really_ peer at the device, "in my barn after three in the morning. Awake. You know - the obvious."

Unwilling to enter into a battle of wits - and frankly, not in the mood for it - Jack uttered a gruff _hunh,_ as he made his way further into the slightly damp barn. "What are you making?" he asked as he slid down and rested his back against one of the dividing walls directly opposite Hiccup, ostensibly to separate the once-kept animals.

Hiccup looked up at him, and back down at the device. "This?" he said, holding it slightly aloft. "I have no idea. It'll either level a city, make popcorn, or get us some really good holo-vision shows. I just...needed to make something."

Jack made a quiet sound, between a scoff and a hum, and his eyes drifted over to the sleeping Toothless. Lucky creature. "How's Anna?" Hiccup asked, though there was a sympathetic quietness to his tone.

Jack felt his heart clench a little. "She's still the same. Hasn't come out of her room even once. Barely eats - just takes the tray in and slides it back out when she's done. Won't talk to me. Kind of annoying she picked the master bedroom, 'cause she doesn't even need to come out to use the bathroom. Stupid en suite."

Hiccup nodded sagely. He tossed the gadget onto the table, where it clattered against the torch. "Hell's not even the word for what she's going through." he said, and Jack could only agree. "What about you - still having the nightmares?"

Jack's thoughtful gaze snapped over to the rider, and he regarded him with a slightly narrow-eyed glare. "How do you know about those?"

Shrugging, Hiccup said almost _too_ offhandedly, "Toothless and I patrol the area every now and then. I can hear you calling out for Neve in your sleep."

Jack's neck and ears underwent a searing transition of self-conscious heat. His eyes falling, he pondered if there was any point either evading the question or lying about it. Either way, Hiccup would assume the opposite. "Yeah," he said, deciding on simple honesty, "every night so far."

"What about?"

Jack relaxed against the wall, and looked off to Hiccup's right in introspective thought. "Different every night. First night, I watched Neve turn to ash right before my eyes on the _Star's_ deck. Just as I'm about to reach for her, someone hits me from behind. I turn around...it's Snow Queen, and her sword's in my gut. Second night, she falls from the _Fairy._ Tonight...I'm surrounded by dead people. You, Toothless, Anna, Kristoff, Koz...all dead. I see Neve with blood all over her chest, I kneel over her, I check her pulse...out of nowhere she grabs my arm, looks at me like she's scared, or disappointed or some shit, and then goes ' _you could...have saved us…'_ right before she dies. Then Snow Queen takes me out. Again."

"Well, that's bull." Hiccup said. His tone was a mite dismissive for Jack's taste, but he swiftly put it down to similar level of fatigue.

"Yeah, well...every night I watch her die, and every night it's different."

"But you know how she died, Jack," Hiccup offered softly, attempting some form of comfort, it seemed. "It wasn't like-"

"You saw it happen." Jack said, firmly and loudly enough to cause a stir and a snort from Toothless as he slept. "You have that closure, 'cause you saw it happen. I didn't, so my mind keeps going over all the possibilities," he continued, raising his hands to his temples, "and it _just won't stop."_

"Dude," Hiccup said quickly, "cut yourself some slack. You _know_ you couldn't have saved her - and even if you tried, the fuel cell overload would've vaporized you too. Stop worrying about what you could have done - you're our leader now. Can't have you stuck in the past."

Jack scoffed under his breath, and pushed himself away from the wall. "Funny you should mention that. It was actually what I wanted to talk with you about."

"What, you being leader? I know the score."

"Not this time, Hic." Jack said wearily, looking at him out of the corner of his eye while he folded his arms. "I'm making you my second-in-command."

Hiccup's face contorted into something betwixt a frown and a gape. Stammering, he said, "Ah-du-bu-wha?", looking at Jack like he was from another planet. "I thought Anna was going to be your XO?"

"She is," Jack sighed as he turned toward the barn door, "but...right now, she's in no shape. With Kristoff...I can't put that kind of pressure on her. Look - it's temporary if it'll make you feel better. I need someone who's gonna let me know if I'm acting out of line, and right now you're the only one who can do that."

"What about Koz? He's been a Ghost longer than I have…."

That time, Jack _did_ scoff. Loudly and derisively. "Pfft. Right now that's a bad idea, and you know it."

Hiccup quirked his lips and cocked an eyebrow. "Mmyeah," he drawled, rubbing his chin. Bristles could easily be seen, thanks to three days of upheaval and no shaving.

"Okay, now we've done the unsuitable-for-XO roll call, you okay with that?" Jack said tersely.

Hiccup shrugged. "Guess I've got no choice." When Jack paused to shoot him an unimpressed look as he slid open the heavy door and walked through, he hastily amended, "Sure - I'd be happy to be your second. So," he asked, pausing to scratch under Toothless' ear before rising to walk with Jack out of the barn. "What's our next move?"

Jack's jaw clenched - that was a question he hoped no-one would ask, because the answer was one he never wanted to say, or hear. He took a long breath through his nose, and slowly shook his head. "Nothing, Hiccup. There is no next move."

Hiccup stopped in his tracks at the barn door, tilted his head and frowned, like he was expecting something else. "Come again? I thought we'd be-"

Turning, Jack gave him exasperated. "What do you want me to say, Hiccup - that we're going to pick up where we left off and continue the fight?" he sighed.

Hiccup shrugged and gently threw his arms in the air like it was obvious. "Well...yeah!"

"Newsflash, Hic, not gonna happen. We've got no ship, no home. We used to be over thirty, now we are just four - in fact, with Anna grieving and Koz...maybe it's just you and me. We are so far behind enemy lines it's not even funny, hiding out in safe-houses and waiting for Unity to come and finish us off. _Nothing_ we do right now is going to make a difference, because there's just not enough of us left," Jack said with nothing but brutal honesty.

Hiccup's face twisted to something like Jack had just taken all of his optimism and hope, and ripped it apart in front of him. "Face it. We're done. The Ghosts as a team...we're nothing but a memory."

"I don't believe that."

Jack rolled his eyes and continued on his way. "Believe what you want, Hiccup," he said, then practically froze in surprise when the brunette Ghost darted to stand in his way, glaring at him.

"No - you didn't knock on my door at three in the morning and make me second-in-command only to tell me there's no team for me to be the XO of. You've done many things, Jack - giving up has never been one of them."

Jack looked away, more out of annoyed exasperation than anything else. He tapped his leg in agitation. "Last month you'd be right, Hic." he said in a low voice, closing his face to within eight inches of his new second's, "But that was before we watched Unity destroy our home and slaughter our friends."

Hiccup closed and opened his mouth, looking like the rug had been pulled from under his feet. It pained him to snap at his friend in such away, especially considering Hiccup still seemed to possess hope and optimism, but the young Ghost had inherited a fractured team teetering on the edge of disbanding. Three years ago, Jack had believed that even with the odds against them, the abnormal way of life would prevail. Now...the nights never looked darker. "Excuse me," he muttered, and swept past.

As he walked away to the white wooden slat-walled farmhouse, nursing the self-reprimanding ache of shame in his chest, and clenching his fists so hard that eight different pricks of pain radiated from his palms, there was a moment he thought the conversation was over. Hiccup had other ideas.

"When are you going to let yourself grieve, Jack?" he called out.

Freezing in step, Jack felt his breath hitch in his throat. The air felt altogether colder against his skin, almost as cold as the verbal armor-piercing bullet in his heart. The topic of grief was something he was intentionally avoiding, so wrapped up was he in trying to be a worthy successor and lead what was left of the team - so for Hiccup to bring it up with laser guided precision…

"I am."

"No," Hiccup flatly denied, and grassy footfalls approached behind before he continued quietly, "You're not."

Jack whirled around. "Well what about you, Hic? You seem to have gotten over it quickly!" he snapped, pain in his heart clouding his mind.

Hiccup took a step back, and glared at him, wounded. "You think I've grieved already? I haven't, Jack. Not by a long shot."

The breath Jack had been holding escaped in a sigh, and it was on the tip of his tongue to apologise for his outburst, when Hiccup continued, "I'm doing what I always do - I hole myself up and I make things. I tinker. I create. Since we got here, I've made a signal jammer out of Uni-Com and old television parts, whatever the hell that gizmo is in there," he thumbed to the barn behind him, "I've nearly finished Inferno and I'm making Anna's widow cloak out of my bedroom curtain for the funeral on Sunday. _That…._ that is me grieving."

He paused for a moment, ostensibly allowing his words to sink in - and boy, were they sinking in. It struck home just how, over the past three days, Jack had no _clue_ what was going on with his team. Some leader he was turning out to be. "But you...it's like you're in limbo. Or you're bottling it up - why, 'cause you feel you need to be strong for your team?"

Though he stiffened, Jack's gaze fell for the briefest of seconds, enough for Hiccup to get his answer.

"We don't need you to be strong for us, Jack. We need you to grieve for _her,"_ he said softly.

Jack nibbled his lips, inhaled a deep breath through his nose, and as he turned away toward the house whilst unaware of the strawberry-blonde head in the window of the uppermost bedroom, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Hiccup. I can't."

* * *

 

Anna didn't know what Jack and Hiccup were talking about - and frankly, she didn't much care.

Although, that apathy applied to pretty much everything.

Letting her eyes fall from the window, she slid down the wall and drew her knees up to her chest, rested her chin on her knee caps, and stared numbly at the patch of moonlight on the wooden floor. It was like the life had been ripped out of her, and in its place, the paradoxical presence of emptiness. A black void in her heart that sapped her of the will to function beyond eat, sleep, and cry, and listen to the sound of her slow heart beat while her mind walled itself against the outside world, choosing instead to live in the past. Where it was safe - where she was happy.

Where Kristoff was still alive.

She forced her eyes shut, feeling her already suffocatingly swollen throat begin to close once again, and tried to stem the tide of despondent tears from welling in her eyes. She knew on some level, a small voice crushed under the dark weight of grief, that she shouldn't shut the world out and wrap herself up in pain and sorrow, like it was some comforting blanket. She knew that she wasn't the only one hurting, that Jack was in hell, too.

But she was so _angry,_ her heart was in so much empty pain, none of that mattered - not even the nigh-constant nausea in her stomach.

Her hand, gliding roughly down her shins, traced across the floor to pick up that which she had been holding close - practically surgically attached to - for the past few days, ever since they disembarked from the _Fairy._ Feeling the tough yet pliable surface under her fingertips, without even looking she laced her fingers around Kristoff's mask. Relaxing her knees into an arch, she rested her forearms on her thighs and gazed forlornly at the pickaxe designs on the left and right cheek-plates, with the heads near the jaw joint and the handle's ends reaching the mouth piece.

It was, along with her wedding ring, the last thing of his that she possessed as a physical reminder of his existence, her marriage, and their undying love for each other. Even though looking at it engendered a stabbing, heart-stopping pain in her chest, and made it ten times harder to hold back the tears, she could not stop gazing at it and tracing a finger down the mouthpiece.

Oh God, why did it hurt so much?

Why did it feel like she was breaking apart at the seams, and _letting_ it happen?

She wished he could be there.

But she also wanted to be alone, with her pain, her emptiness, her grief and her broken heart.

Where Kristoff was.

Her resolve crumbling, lips pulling apart, eyes feeling the unstoppable tide of tears welling up behind the searing red, she whispered to the inanimate mask...

"It's not fair."

...and pressed her face against the mask, letting the dam break and the tears spill forth down her cheeks.

* * *

 

Kozmotis, over the course of his life, had felt many things.

Bloodlust in battle, rage against his abusive father and uncaring mother. A childish crush as a little, dreaming, idealistic ten year old on the flame-haired girl that passed through the settlement he lived in. Solidarity with his team, and a kinship with Jack.

One thing that he had not often felt, though, was nervousness. Perhaps, fear.

Yet it was the core emotion gripping his heart as he knocked on the door of an old, ramshackle building in a settlement he hadn't visited for four years. A strange kind of anxiety at what was about to happen. Tears, relief. Physical contact. The knowledge that he was waking up the house's occupants at three in the morning.

But it was something he _had_ to do, something that fuelled his desire to make a two-day drive across Unity territory.

There came the sound of a feminine " _coming!"_ from inside the house. A voice that made his heart thump in anticipation. He focused his mind on breathing. In through the nose, out the mouth. In, out. His mouth felt dry as a desert.

The door opened after a series of metallic clicks and slides, and in the doorway stood a woman far shorter than he, with medium length brunette hair and wide eyes of realisation, her hand clutching a well-used white cloth as it was curled into a loose fist over her chest.

"Pitch…" she whispered.

"Cass," he replied.

Another voice joined in, belonging to a taller, black-haired young man in a greying long-sleeved top. "Hey, Aunt Cass, who's at the-" he said, and his eyes widened too in surprise as they recognised the tall Ghost standing outside, wearing merely his black cargo pants and similarly coloured T-shirt.

"Tadashi," Kozmotis greeted him. "Have either of you seen the news?"

Unity had wasted no time in bombarding the population with propaganda of the defeat of the so-called abnormal menace. Images of a burning ship, and Iago ranting and raving whilst glorifying the regime. He knew what it would have done to Hiro's family, seeing it on the Media Stream.

"Hiro…" she breathed.

"Hiro..." Kozmotis said, as softly as possible, "he is safe."

He kept his promise.

Cass burst into tears, not of sadness but of relief. She dropped the cloth and threw her arms around Tadashi, who looked like he was going to hit the floor but managed to keep himself together to embrace his aunt and share in her joy. She sobbed into his shoulder, and Tadashi closed his eyes whilst murmuring something inaudible.

Kozmotis, sensing his job was done, nodded to himself and turned to walk back to the car, when Tadashi's voice called out to him and froze him in his step. "Pitch?"

"Yes?"

"You look tired, and you sure as hell look hungry. Come on in," Tadashi said.

Kozmotis turned, his eyes flicking between Tadashi's hazel orbs and the tearful ones of Cass. "I don't think-"

"Please," Cass said, "It's the least we could do."

Hesitating, Kozmotis pondered whether he should. He _was_ tired, and he _was_ hungry. He wasn't looking forward to the drive back, nor the tension-filled silence of the Ghost safehouse - but there was something in Cass' eyes, a pleading for him to say yes that made him change his mind. If not for him, then for _them._

He nodded, but only took two more steps before Cass' arm lashed out, grasped him by the T-shirt and pulled him into one of the tightest hugs he had ever experienced. Though his anxiety levels shot up at such surprise contact, forcing his entire body to stiffen rigidly and a gasp to escape his throat, he couldn't deny her need.

Nor could he deny that maybe, just maybe, the long drive was worth it just to see the relief on their faces. To bring them some happy news out of such oppressing darkness; that the promise he made to her four years ago when he rescued her nephew, to keep him safe from harm was a promise he fulfilled.


	31. Tangled in Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elsa's Theme: "War Machine", Brian Tyler, Iron Man 3 OST.

 

" **Tangled in Strings"**

_Location: Citadel of Unity, New Arendelle_

_Date: November 28th, 2073_

_Time: 09:25_

Hans shifted uncomfortably in the wooden waiting room chair, a uniformly basic pine piece of furniture that, much like the rest of the waiting room, was painted a dull grey. From the floor to the ceiling, the entrance door to the assistant's semi-circular desk, everything was the same shade of grey. It created an uncanny sense of sensory oppression upon his eyes and his spatial awareness, and he had a suspicion that clad in his black military dress jacket and pants, wholly inadequate number of ribbons and service cap resting on his lap, he was the most vibrant person in the room. His eyes slowly traced across the receptionists desk, where she too seemed to blend into the wall behind her thanks to her grey mandarin-collared jacket. In fact, the only thing that stood out on her was her tight bun of blonde hair.

Shifting again, Hans smoothed down the sleeves of his jacket and recalled the message he received at the Staging Grounds at seven that morning, ordering him to attend a meeting with the Unifier himself at nine. A quick breakfast, hasty change and blisteringly fast journey via drop ship later, and he had arrived in the Citadel's waiting room with fifteen minutes to spare. For someone who had two hours to get from New Burgess to New Arendelle, arriving early was a point of pride.

So why, with the time being nine-twenty-five, was he was still waiting?

He glanced up at the receptionist, and smiled. Hazel eyes slowly drifting over to his, she regarded him emotionlessly for a few seconds before returning her gaze to the info-tablet on the table, and continued to read. Hans' smile fell, though it wasn't exactly like he was unaccustomed to being ignored. If anything, it felt...normal. Raising his fist to his mouth, he cleared his throat and tried to interest himself in his service cap.

The impatience wasn't to last long. The receptionist stiffened slightly, her abrupt movement attracting Hans' gaze, and her eyes moved every which way as she leaned slightly to the right. Which meant she was receiving orders through her earpiece. After a few seconds, her body relaxed, and she looked at Hans with the same apathetic expression she must have had welded onto her face years ago. "The Unifier will see you know, Commander Larsen," she said tonelessly, and without wasting time she spread her hand over a scanner on the right of her desk, prompting the entrance door to open with a soft clunk.

Hans stood. Sliding his cap under his right arm, he straightened his jacket with a gentle jerk of the bottom hem and walked over to the door. It slid open with a soft hiss, and with a steadying breath he stepped inside.

The Hall of Unity was...imposing, would be the only word Hans could think of. The impossibly reflective black marble floor turned his footsteps into echoing _clacks,_ which bounced off the stone walls and pillars that adorned the left and right sides of the long, high ceiling room. Tall statues of faceless men, hooded heads bowed and hands that held swords blade down to the floor stood in front of the pillars. Situated in perfect spacing between the statues, Honor Guardsmen and women in grey, well-fitting trench coats instantly stood to attention as he walked past, towards a wide black shiny desk and a high-backed black chair - or, more accurately, a throne.

His eyes resting on the Unifier's back, who was stood on a dais seemingly busy looking out over New Arendelle through a huge floor-to-ceiling window, Hans stopped a few feet to the side of another man in full dress uniform, stood impossibly rigidly and looking straight ahead.

Hans didn't need to look to know who he was. "Hello, brother," Henrik said.

"Sir," Hans curtly replied.

Henrik's tone was smooth but almost petulant as he spoke. "I'd ask you how you fared over the past week, but it seems you've been busy."

Hans was about to quietly retort when Unifier Weselton's voice rang out, and though it was irritatingly high and scratchy, it nonetheless had the effect of shutting them up. "Silence!"

He turned to face them. Stiffening to full attention, Hans focused his eyes on a patch of stone to the right of the window. "I did not summon the two of you to suffer sibling quarrels," he barked, glaring.

Hans felt an unwelcome tingle of apprehension in his heart. No matter his low opinion of Unifier Weselton, he couldn't deny the power the diminutive man wielded. Weselton had, albeit unknowingly, the power to halt everything Hans had put in motion with a simple decision.

"I summoned the two of you, because of late I have been troubled by a flagrant disregard for, at best, the military chain of command and at worst, the regime itself. On the one hand, I have an officer that disobeyed orders and took it upon himself, without consulting his superiors, to take our greatest secret and most powerful weapon, fly it into neutral territory and incur damage that will take our engineers weeks to repair."

Hans felt a rush of prideful indignation that burned in his chest and tempted him to speak out in his defense.

"On the other hand, that officer would not have been forced to disobey orders had his superior officer, a decorated soldier and Supreme Commander of our military, not been dallying around in Zone Fifty on a family soiree, unreachable by all _including_ myself."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how Henrik stiffened and heard the sound of his teeth being ground together. As hard as he tried to suppress it, a ghost of a smile curled his lips.

"However, Commander Larsen," the Unifier addressed him, stepping down the dais to stand behind the desk, and regarded him with studious eyes, "while there are some who would call you insubordinate, there are others who would call it...taking the initiative. The abnormal resistance has been wiped out. We now know the _Hammer_ performs well above expectations, the Alliance are none the wiser, and public morale and opinion in our regime has never been higher. None of it would have happened had you not disobeyed orders."

Hans allowed himself a open but restrained sigh of relief. He knew he was in the right and what he did was for the benefit of Unity, and though the Unifier's opinion meant little to him as a person, the wizened man was in a position of supreme power and thus needed to feel as such. Hans the Scheming had to move aside for Hans the Humble. "Thank you, sir," he said quietly.

Weselton held up a hand. "Be that as it way - you still committed insubordination, and as such there will be a reprimand on your record. You are lucky it was not a court martial. As for you, _Supreme Commander Larsen,"_ Weselton turned his head, and sneered every syllable of his rank and name, " _you_ are lucky that I have enough respect for your father to not consider it a dereliction of duty. You should have appointed an Acting Supreme Commander but you did not. Therefore, a reprimand will also be on your once spotless record, and I will be taking over your duties for the next few weeks. Your involvement with the military will be purely administrative for that time, and anything beyond that will be assignments that I will hand out. Is that clear?"

Henrik's voice was as flat as he could make it, but Hans could easily detect the deflation in his tone. "Very clear, sir."

"Good." Weselton said. "Your first assignment is this - in a week's time, construction will begin on the _Spear of Unity,_ the _Hammer's_ sister ship. You will travel to the Chimera shipyard and oversee its commencement. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Hans felt a small surge of adrenaline and excitement from his rapidly beating heart. Everything was working out the way he hoped - now there was the small matter of a deal he had made. "If I may, sir," he offered mildly, "I have a suggestion."

"Speak," Weselton said.

"The construction of the _Spear_ may be faster due to the experience of constructing the _Hammer,_ but I believe it can be hastened further by the presence of another high-ranking member of the regime accompanying the Supreme Commander."

Weselton folded his arms, and regarded him curiously. "Whom did you have in mind?"

"The final decision is of course yours, sir, but perhaps High Inquisitor Gothel? Her presence as the head of the Inquisitors may be a great source of motivation," Hans finished.

Weselton's jaw jutted out as he looked at Hans in thought. His suggestion made, Hans waited for _hopefully_ the sensible answer. Waited for such a long time that the atmosphere was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and he was beginning to wonder if he had overstepped the mark.

"I agree," Weselton said briskly, "I will make the necessary arrangements. Gentlemen, you are both dismissed."

Hans hid his relief behind a firm " _yes, sir, thank you sir",_ saluted and turned on his heels with a loud _clack_ before striding out of the Hall, with Henrik ostensibly behind him. With his face well out of the Unifier's sight, he allowed himself a victorious smirk; a reprimand was _nothing_ in the grand scheme of things. Barely an inconvenience. The equivalent of one person disliking a story, but ninety-nine others in complete thrall.

The next step would be crucial, yet it would also come to define him. When he would take that step - there would be no turning back. He asked himself a question as he passed through the same doors he entered - was he prepared to take such a step?

"Did it go how you expected, brother?"

His breath hitched and then came out in a resigned sigh. He dipped his head, then turned to meet the incensed, almost _betrayed_ face of his elder brother. "Define 'expected'."

Henrik took half a step forward, so his face was a hand's distance from Hans', staring unblinkingly. "I know you. I know your mind. Everything that happened in there was by your design."

Hans rolled his eyes, and turned to leave the receptionist's office. "Delusions don't become you, brother."

"But they're not delusions, are they?" Henrik blurted out. Hans paused in step, and it was apparently enough for the elder Larsen to continue, "I can't help but feel you knew the _Hammer_ would be completed ahead of schedule, that you knew where the abnormals hid all along. Maybe you even coincided the attack for when I would be away."

Hans shook his head whilst simultaneously turning his eyes to heaven. Henrik _was_ remarkably astute with his accusations, and should any of them be substantiated, the youngest Larsen would find himself at the business end of the hangman's noose. He turned his head over his shoulder, and said, "Maybe you should take a step back from your novels. They seem to be having an effect on your mind."

Hans carried on his way. Maybe with the below-the-belt jab, Henrik would be too off-guard to respond, and as the few seconds passed in nothing but silence, it looked like he was right.

"Father was right about you."

There was a small explosion of indignant anger in Hans' chest, quick and forceful enough to temporarily override his common sense and intentional calm. It was so tempting to barrage his elder brother with every single instance of his family failing him. Holding him back because he was smarter than your average Larsen. Keeping him out of the way so ambition could be crushed under obedience. He was close.

But events were on a knife-edge, and he had to remain calm - but as he opened his mouth and said…

"I did my duty, Henrik. Don't blame me for you dropping the ball."

...and walked away, he noticed he wasn't as apprehensive about crossing the line as he thought he would be.

* * *

_Location: Snowfield House_

_Time: 16:15_

The biometric hand-print reader beeped once and instantaneously switched from a vibrant red to a healthy green. Elsa pulled her hand away, and waited patiently in front of the moderately-sized electronic safe. While the reader analysed the data, she turned her head and cast a languid eye over the basement, where several desks with flasks, test tubes and gadgets she had long forgotten about stood. It was dim and depressing, how empty and void-like the room was.

The speaker above the safe spoke with a feminine voice not unlike her Uni-Com, attracting her attention." _Biometric print successful. Awaiting voice analysis."_

"Elsa Marie Snowfield," Elsa spoke, clearly and firmly.

" _Voice recognition confirmed,"_ the safe said, " _Awaiting retinal scan."_

Elsa leaned forward slightly, aligning her eyes with the red, camera-like sphere protruding from the wall above the safe. A cone of red burst forth, slowly swept across her eyes, and promptly switched itself off with a dull _bip._

" _Retinal scan confirmed. Identity - Elsa Marie Snowfield. Disengaging security seal."_

Elsa let loose a soft sigh of relief, drowned out by the scraping of metal as the safe's door slid aside.

Illuminated by the soft light inside the secure container, lay one red screw-cap pill pot. Once upon a time they completely filled the space, mostly of a white color with the red one hidden at the back, having been stockpiled there by her father in case of emergency. Now, the safe was empty aside from the last one. Reaching in to grasp it, Elsa gazed pensively at its small form whilst her father's voice filled her mind.

_"Listen carefully, Elsa, because this is important. Use the white pills whenever you feel the physical sensations, or when you anticipate them. Two at a time."_

_"And the red pills, Papa?"_

_"Those are triple strength. The effects will last for days. They are a last resort."_

_"When do I use those?"_

_"When the time comes, my daughter, you will know."_

Exhaling through her nose in resignation, she unscrewed the pot in which a dozen red pills resided, tossed two of them into her mouth and re-capped the pot before closing the door. The white pills were becoming less and less reliable as the days went on, seemingly losing their effects at unpredictable times - and since the battle in the Atlantic, it felt like she was merely swallowing glorified mints.

Worse still, taking the pills had become second nature, so to open the safe and be greeted with not a mountain of pots but a solitary red one, it only reinforced the gnawing worry that not only was she running out of pills, she was running out of _time_.

A dull, muted bell rang out throughout the house and into the basement. In the process of filling her pill case, Elsa looked up at the line of amber light where the walls met the ceiling, a visual signal that someone had arrived at the door and was announcing their presence. The left side of her lips curled - Rapunzel.

Clipping the case shut, she turned and climbed the dark stone steps into the contrastingly bright and well-lit house, taking care to close the basement door behind her and tossing the pill pot into the open recycling hatch opposite the door. Travelling through the kitchen, along the main hallway and stopping at the door, Elsa paused for a moment, her breath freezing in her lungs as she stared at the front door and felt the realisation hit her like a missile. For the first time in three years, someone other than her would be standing inside the walls of Snowfield House. The idea alone sent a shiver of excitement and a pang of anxiety through her spine.

She took a deep breath through her nose, closed her eyes and exhaled through the nervousness. This was a step, a big step, and she was about to make it. Opening her eyes, she reached out to the right and thumbed the small white button, and instantly the front door slid aside.

Revealing not only the smiling, bright face of Rapunzel, but the half-smirk of Merida and the emotionless gaze of Astrid, stood behind her and to the left and right respectively, all clad in grey Upper City clothing. Elsa felt a flash of panic in her spine - it was a big enough step to agree to Rapunzel's suggestion of a visit, let alone the rest of the team.

Rapunzel, evidently noticing the rather obvious worry etched onto Elsa's face, winced sheepishly. "Hey, uh - I hope you don't mind. I kind of wrangled the girls together."

"She didnae tell us what for, though," Merida added.

Rapunzel rolled her eyes. "No, I thought it'd be better if _you_ did, Elsa. Is…" she paused, and looked at her with expectant concern, "is that okay?"

Elsa blinked, forgetting that the air in her lungs had been held ever since she opened the door. Breathlessly, she said, "Okay? Er...no - yes. That's okay. Thank you. Please, come in…"

She stood aside, her legs feeling a tad weaker than they did after a good thirty minute workout. Rapunzel entered first, followed by Merida who offered a quiet " _cheers,"_ and Astrid who simply nodded, not even looking.

Her baby steps just turned into big steps.

* * *

Having directed them into her living room whilst internally trying to avoid a panic, Elsa joined them with a tray of four glasses of water and some cookies; having never played the host for a long, long time, the concept of entertaining guests was something that felt alien. Exciting, but unknown.

As she entered the living room toting the tray, Rapunzel quickly rose from the sofa and took one glass while Merida took the other two, passing the second to Astrid who said, "So, why are we here?"

Elsa cast a glance at Rapunzel, whose encouraging nod was undone by the cookie sticking out of her mouth. "Um," she began nervously, placing the tray on a small black table just by the sofa so she could completely ignore her water, stare at the floor and wring her hands together, "I...I…"

She looked up. Rapunzel was looking at her with a soft smile, silently motivating her. Merida was watching her with a curious eye...but Astrid? She could have won a poker game, such was the lack of emotion. It then occurred to her that these three still had her back, that even though Rapunzel said she would be visiting, Merida and Astrid could easily have refused. Yet, they were there, in her living room. In amongst the nervousness, there was a feeling of solidarity their presence aroused. So the words she blurted out, once her hand-wringing had stopped, were ones that surprised her with how quickly they left her mouth.

"I'm sorry."

Rapunzel's smile instantly became a puzzled frown, like she was expecting her to say something else. Merida's flame locks dipped to the right as she tilted her head in curiosity, and there was the briefest rise to Astrid's eyebrows. Inhaling deeply, she walked through the door she figuratively opened. "I have been rude, I have been ignorant. You three have extended the hand of friendship to me many times, and I have given you nothing but nastiness, arrogance, and apathy in return. I have not been a leader in any sense but the title, and the things I have said," she paused, her eyes lingering on Astrid, "have been unforgivable. So for my behaviour over the past three years, I apologise."

There was a moment of silence, where the only movement belonged to the three Valkyries as they exchanged surprised looks. "Never thought I'd hear you say that," Astrid said, relaxing back into the sofa's corner.

"It has been a long time coming," Elsa said, looking down briefly, "but before I tell you why Rapunzel brought you here, I thought an apology was in order."

"Well I'm not gonna lie an' say it's nae welcome," Merida said, sipping her water before continuing, "but I'm still wonderin' why we're here."

Elsa relaxed a little, and adopted the standard _at ease_ pose of feet at shoulder-width and hands behind her back. "Ever since the attack on the _Star,_ I found myself in limbo. I didn't know what to do, but with Rapunzel's help I managed to make sense and now have an objective."

"And that is?" Astrid prompted her.

Strangely, the passage of time in addition to the genuine interest of her team - except Astrid, who could beat a statue in lack of expression - was doing an admirable job in calming the anxiety whilst bolstering her confidence, and every word she spoke was progressively easier to say. "I am no longer certain that the Ghosts were responsible for what happened to my parents."

Merida scoffed, loudly and incredulously. "Well, it's about bloody time, lass!" she said, then immediately hissed a curse at Rapunzel who had bounced a cookie off her forehead in chastisement.

Elsa held up two hands to calm the possible upcoming brawl. "No, Rapunzel - Merida is right. I should not have accepted the evidence at face value, and the Ghosts have consistently proved unwilling to take civilian lives. That should have been a clue - but in my zeal for Frost's head, I ignored it. So I am going to conduct my own investigation-"

Rapunzel's smile returned, and she nodded vigorously and encouragingly.

"-and I would be grateful for any help. However, I realise my earlier behaviour may cause you all to refuse, and I completely understand. I am prepared to do this on my own."

Barely a second passed after Elsa finished speaking, when Rapunzel rose from the seat and spoke with a gentle, comforting voice, "The thing is, Elsa - you don't have to. You already know I'm in."

Elsa gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you."

Both women turned to Merida, whose lips were sideways quirked as she glanced between them, elbows on her knees as she clutched her water. Her expression was thoughtful, calculating, as though she was assessing her options. It was odd, considering she was as much of a hothead as Astrid but less physical about it. Maybe the Purge had changed her, too.

After a time, she spoke. "Aye." She relaxed back into the sofa, and exhaled loudly. "Sounds like fun. What the hell - I'm in."

All eyes fell on Astrid, who was still about as readable as a blank wall. In fact, she had barely moved, seemingly content on watching the scene unfold. "Astrid?" Merida said. "What d'ye say, lass?"

Still, she remained silent, though her gaze was wholly and inextricably fixed upon Elsa. For a moment, her smile falling, she wondered why. Was she trying to gauge her honesty, or was she too considering her options? Was she lost in her own thoughts, or was she counting the different ways to say " _go fuck yourself?"_

Elsa had to admit, as the seconds passed, the last idea was looking more and more likely...until, abruptly enough to make Rapunzel flinch slightly, she finally spoke. "So let me get this straight. You're think Unity's police, and the military lied to you, and the Ghosts didn't kill your parents and kidnap your sister. You want to go on your own little investigation - which is probably illegal - so you can find out who did it. What if it's true, and it was all a big conspiracy - what will you do then?"

"Then I will have many more apologies to make, and forgiveness to beg for," Elsa answered simply.

Astrid's jaw jutted out and went to the left. She narrowed her eyes a millimetre, yet still remaining silent. Sighing, she turned to place her water on the small nearby table and regarded her with probably one of the best expressions of cold aggression Elsa had ever seen as she folded her arms.

"I'm gonna be honest, I still don't trust you. One apology doesn't change that. The way you've been - you're lucky assaulting a superior officer is a court martial offense, because I would have knocked your teeth out on principle the first day we met."

"Astrid…" Rapunzel groaned.

"No, Rapunzel - she needs to hear this. I'm really tempted to tell you to go to hell, after how you treated me in the Upper City bathroom. But I'm not - want to know why?"

"Please," Elsa prompted. Whatever Astrid wanted to say, she had been holding back for some time. If there was _any_ hope of reconciliation, everything had to be laid out, so with nothing but silence from the other two, and no escape from the truth she was being bombarded with, she knew she had to stand there and take it. Maybe it was good preparation for if she ever saw her sister again. _That_ part scared her, as there was nothing Astrid could say that would compare to how much Anna could verbally tear her apart.

"Because for some insane reason, these two boneheads are too naive to understand the ferocity of the shit-storm they could be walking into. So, for them, I'm in-"

Elsa only just held back from breathing a sigh of relief, but she didn't know whether it was relief that Astrid was joining in, or that she hadn't rushed forth and punched her in the nose.

"-but let me be _crystal clear._ If this goes sideways on us, and it gets them hurt, there's gonna be no force on the planet that will stop me from coming for you. Got it?"

"I understand," Elsa said, the corners of her lips curling a gentle margin. She bowed her head slightly in respect. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Astrid waved it off. "So, now we're all standing around like idiots, shall we get to work?"

Merida lightly shook her head in exasperation, and her locks trembled as she scratched the side of her head. "Ye know, Astrid, I thought I was tha brash one but compared tae ye I'm as gentle as a flower."

Astrid narrowed her eyes, and leaned slightly toward Merida as she pointed a threatening finger. She opened her mouth, but anticipating a brawl in her living room, Elsa felt the distinct need to distract. "Work sounds fine!" she quickly, and loudly said, holding her hands up to quell the storm.

Still watching Merida closely, Astrid agreed. "So, we'll follow your lead. What's our first step?"

Elsa turned, and her eyes moved to rest upon the moving picture she had converted to holo-form weeks ago, of her surrounded by her family. Thoughtfully gazing at her smiling sister, she said, "During the battle, my sister said something that has been going around and around my head since I came home. She said that Frost and Pitch couldn't have been responsible for the murder as they were rescuing her at the time…" she paused, her gaze falling as a last few words sneaked out before she noticed, "and that I should be thanking him."

"I can buy that," Astrid said abruptly, and subsequently became the target of another projectile cookie. Were it not for Merida stepping between them and shooting warning looks, Rapunzel would likely have been chased out of the house.

Elsa closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose, trying to remind herself that the snark was Astrid's catharsis, and hoping that she wouldn't have to tell either of them to leave. "I think we should find out if what she said is true - then I will know for sure. I need to observe Anna's movements that night."

Rapunzel moved to stand by her side, and folded her arms. "Okay, so how do we do that?"

Elsa turned toward her Uni-Com. "Activate," she commanded, then turned her head back towards Rapunzel, "Security camera recordings."

"But the city's a big place, there's thousands of cameras just in the Lower City - you'll be at it for hours."

Elsa smiled crookedly. "That's why I'm going to whittle the results down." Turning back to the Uni-Com and folding her hands behind her back, she said, "Uni-Com, access Abnormal Arrest Squad database."

" _Accessing…"_ the device said, while the same word appeared in the centre of the screen. Moments later, it came back with, " _Access denied. Insufficient clearance - authorisation required."_

Elsa was prepared for that. Even though the Valkyries eclipsed the A.A.S in terms of functionality and skill, her team was geared towards armed and trained abnormals, so the A.A.S rounded up any others. "Snowfield, Elsa. Valkyrie Leader. Authorisation code two-six-six-two-echo-alpha-lima."

The speech-line flickered, as a blank screen possessing only the shield of the A.A.S's logo materialised behind it. " _Authorisation code accepted. Database accessed. Command?"_

So far, so good. It was only the first step, but the small success nevertheless engendered a feeling of hope within her heart. "Access bloom records for July ninth, twenty-seventy."

The logo disappeared, and the speech-line took itself off to the the top left corner. In its place, the screen was filled with a dozen dates, times and details in thin rectangles, nestled together in two wide columns that were still being populated as it said, " _Records obtained."_

Merida and Astrid slowly moved to stand behind her. Attracted by the movement, Elsa glanced over her shoulder just as Astrid murmured, "Clever - I see where you're going with this," with her eyes dancing between each result on the screen.

Elsa hummed a smile, and turned back. "Eliminate any results occurring in New Corona or New Arendelle."

Two-thirds of the results faded into nothingness, leaving merely three. "Eliminate any results where the...target…" she trailed off, finding the word 'target' and her sister to be so incongruent that it was difficult to say, "was successfully arrested."

Three, became one. Citizen Two-Seven-Six. There was a brief moment when Elsa wondered why it simply did not return with her sister's name, but quickly put it at the back of her mind under the Peculiarities category. "Access all security camera recordings pertaining to this citizen, on the night of the arrest warrant."

" _Sourcing data,"_ the Uni-Com said, " _there are six recordings. Playing in chronological order."_

The citizen data record too faded into nothingness, and the screen was instantly filled with the blue-hued holo-camera recording of the inside of a strange building. Elsa's eyes darted over every single inch of the screen; judging by the corrugated steel walls, the dirty, wide open space and the discarded crates dotted around the ground, it looked like an old warehouse.

In the dead centre of it, six people sat cross-legged or laid on their sides, passing something between them. As the recording zoomed in upon Elsa's request, she discerned that something as a large bottle - ostensibly synthohol. Not only that, but one of those people she discovered with a hitch of breath was Anna, nestled in the arms of someone she had never seen before, with her head on his shoulder as she sipped from the bottle.

Elsa curled a loose fist over her mouth and bit into the skin, feeling her heart twinge. To say it was a metaphorical slap in the face was an understatement of the millennium. Her sister was late on that night with friends, but not only that...she had a boyfriend. Elsa knew nothing of it. Having a boyfriend was a _big_ thing for Anna, something that she would have told her elder sister _everything_ about. Probably all night. And yet, three years later after everything that happened, this was the first she knew of it.

Seemingly sensing her turmoil, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Something told her that it was Rapunzel.

She knew her reason for being out-of-touch was inescapable, but it didn't stop her heart from being in so much pain, and didn't stop her from feeling that she was the worst sister in the world.

The recording continued on, where the six people laughed and joked. Anna shared the occasional kiss with her boyfriend, and when the bottle was finally drained, another was produced while the empty one was used for _spin-the-bottle._ Never before had Elsa wished so much she was part of that group, not holed up in her house.

A second later, everything changed.

A scurry of activity broke out. Anna doubled over to the floor, and for a moment it looked like she was just throwing up after too much faux-booze. It was a quick-assessment shared by her friends, it seemed, especially when her boyfriend held a comforting arm over her and moved his mouth near her ear, whilst others either chuckled at her or went to see if she was okay.

Then, they all darted away, some falling to the floor and scrambling backwards, others taking several steps back. However the manner of their movement, it was clear they were all responding to one sensation - fear. Even her boyfriend recoiled - for under Anna's body, the unmistakeable flickering of fire could be seen.

Elsa watched in enraptured horror as Anna, curled up on her knees in the foetal position, rocking her entire upper body in what could only be described as agony, reached her left hand out to her friends - who moved back even further thanks to that hand being almost entirely aflame. She could see her sister's mouth moving, and it didn't take a facial analyst to see the words spoken were " _help me, please!"._ She struggled to her knees, and reached out to her boyfriend - who, like a coward, was the first to run away followed by her so-called friends. She looked up to the sky, her grimacing lips creating another word, one that hit Elsa like a punch in the gut - her name. In her agony and panic, she was calling out for her sister. No-one was there for her. She was going through a Bloom Event, something that could last for minutes to a few hours in varying levels of pain, alone.

"Fucking hell," Merida breathed, "that's..."

"Horrific," Astrid finished for her.

Anna doubled over again, and as soon as her hands touched the ground, a circular wave of flame burst forth from around her and grew in size as it radiated away, engulfing the area in a veritable sea of fire. Unable to breathe, so rapt was she in heartache and horror, Elsa watched as the flames rapidly grew up the wall and destroyed the camera, rendering the recording to naught but a sea of static and the words _Connection Lost._

Elsa took a sharp intake of breath. She whirled around, and rushed out of the room, stopping in the hallway only when her legs weakened to the point she had to hold herself up with a hand against the wall. Haphazardly, she slumped against it and slowly slid to the floor, lacing a trembling hand horizontally under her nose in dawning realisation. She witnessed her sister's Bloom Event, one that claimed a warehouse in conflagration - alone, abandoned, afraid. Calling out for a sister that, for all she knew, wouldn't come. But Elsa _would -_ if she knew, she would have sent the parent-enforced house arrest to hell and stopped at nothing to be there.

The left side of her vision was dwarfed by a figure that squatted beside her, and the light flowery scent was a welcome sign as to who it was. "Redundant question," Rapunzel asked, "but you okay?"

"I just," Elsa began slightly breathlessly as she waved a dismissive but weak hand, "I just need a minute."

"Come on - you don't need to see the rest," the brunette said. "We can look through the footage for you."

She looked at Rapunzel with pained eyes, that welled slightly in the lower lid. Nibbling her inner lip, she forced a swallow past a constricted throat and croaked, "But I do, Rapunzel. I'm a daughter of scientists - it's in my blood."

She turned back to numbly gaze at the floor. Sure, it was an obscure reason and one that Rapunzel wasn't guaranteed to understand, but it made perfect sense in Elsa's mind. Scientists question. They test, they evaluate, they think. She had been so wrapped up in three years of rage and revenge that she had not stopped to question why the police's investigation into Anna's disappearance was concluded so swiftly and unsatisfactorily. Now, it all made sense - Anna was busy becoming a hunted citizen, and Elsa was busy being transformed from a daughter of scientists to a honed weapon.

She asked Rapunzel to help her up, and after a strong hand under her arm and a comforting squeeze, she made her way back into the living room where Astrid and Merida were stood in front of the screen, vigilantly scanning the subsequent recordings. "Have I missed anything?" she asked, as she moved to stand between them, watching as a faintly red-highlighted Anna, viewed from up above, traversed the largest street of the Lower City clad in what she assumed to be a hooded sweater left behind by her cowardly ' _friends'._ Whenever she moved offscreen, the view would instantly switch to another camera.

"Nothin' much," Merida said, "all she's doin' is walkin' through tha streets."

"She's doing more than that," Astrid said, pointing at the visual representation of Anna as she disappeared into a crowd of people coming the other way, "she's actively avoiding being in the open, and she's moving away from the inter-level elevators. See-" she paused to point at where Anna took a hard left, "if she had gone right, it'd be a straight walk to the northern elevator."

"She knows what's coming," Elsa said quietly, "so she's trying to run and hide."

She exchanged looks with each of the other three Valkyries. The A.A.S had a strangely rapid response to new bloomers, according to the propaganda blared at them from the dozens of huge screens throughout the city, and Elsa had heard rumours in the Staging Ground of people being apprehended before they'd even finished their Events.

Sure enough, the penultimate recording ceased and moved aside for the final one, of a dilapidated house dead centre in the screen. Elsa glanced down at the bottom right, where the words _THE NETHER_ along with _CAMERA 926, 19:50_ hovered.

"There she is," Rapunzel said as, true to her sight, Anna appeared from the bottom left corner and jogged toward the house, head hunched and arms wrapped around her chest. She opened the door and disappeared inside, closing it behind her.

"Keep moving, Anna," Elsa said in a low, anxious voice, even though she knew she was speaking to a recording of history. "Don't stay in one place…"

For a few moments, nothing occurred in the camera's sight. No-one came in or out, and not even a random civilian walked past - until four sustained circular disturbances appeared on the dusty ground, kicking up tiny stones and debris, heralding the arrival of something that sent Elsa's stomach sinking to the floor.

An A.A.S patrol craft. "There they are," Astrid said. Elsa wondered if _her_ heart was racing as much..

"Not just them." Rapunzel pointed to the top right of the screen. "Look - there he is."

Elsa's eyes followed her direction, and with small intake of breath noticed the very person she had hated and hunted for so long, perched on the top of a street light like an agile cat, staff in one hand, peering down. As the drop-ship landed and spewed out its troops, Elsa watched how Frost's movements became increasingly erratic, quick, and anxious. He was clearly frustrated by something.

As the troops entered the house, with only the faint flashes of blue light in the windows indicating their existence, he seemed to finally get over his frustration and charged with a blur at the two sentries. Quietly impressed, she watched as in the space of ten seconds he disarmed one and jabbed his throat, broke the arms of the second before knocking him clean out with an upward swing. "And there's Pitch," Merida said, as the comparatively taller Ghost seemed to materialise out of the darkness at the house's right to brutally pierce the first clone's chest, thereby admirably covering Frost's six. One small conversation later, and the two Ghosts melted into the shadows of the doorway.

Minutes after that, Elsa watched with rapt attention as they reappeared, and jealousy burned like a flame in her chest when she noticed precisely _who_ Frost's arms were protectively draped around, holding her close for comfort - Anna. Gritting her teeth, oh how did she wish she was there to hold her sister, not Frost.

"At least now we know how she became a Ghost," Rapunzel said in a forced-bright tone, wincing.

"Clearly," Elsa said tersely. "End playback."

The Uni-Com obediently shrank away the recording, and consigned it along with the five others into pixelated oblivion, leaving only the A.A.S logo and the software's gently pulsing blue speech line.

"Okay," Astrid said, "so we just confirmed Anna was right, and the Ghosts really did rescue her. What's next?"

Elsa closed her eyes, and exhaled a trembling breath - her emotions had already been in turmoil, watching her sister suffer in pain and fear, and then seeing her once-enemy act _her_ part as comforter and protector. "The only thing that could make me feel even worse," she said, her voice shaking. "I need to watch my parents die."

Astrid let loose a low, long whistle, and Merida indicated with a quick voice that she was going to find some fake-booze, striding out of the living room.

"Uni-Com," she addressed the screen, "access the New Burgess police database, search for the investigation into the shooting of Agdar and Idun Snowfield, and bring up the closest security camera recording."

Predictably, the device indicated her access was denied, and subsequently overturned said denial when Elsa gave her security clearance. " _Working,"_ the Uni-Com said, and the A.A.S logo was replaced by the N.B.D badge of the city-skyline. A list of dozens of rectangular case labels filled the right, with more numbers and letters than Elsa could count in the brief space of time before half of them were pulled out and the rest dissolved away. The Uni-Com carried on whittling down the list of cases at startling speed, until only one remained. Three circles appeared, connected to the rectangle's right by three thin lines, labelled _VISUAL EVIDENCE, WITNESS TESTIMONY_ and _PHYSICAL EVIDENCE._ The Uni-Com automatically selected the first, which blinked rapidly and split into a further three circles. The centre circle ballooned out to fill the screen with another recording - this time, of an impossibly tidy and clean Upper City street.

Elsa's eyes flicked down to the bottom right, where the date and time stamp read _9/7/2070, 19:38._

"Sisters," Astrid said with the uncharacteristic tone and cadence of dread, "something's happening."

From the perspective of nine o'clock high, a car slowly moved into the frame at what Elsa could only estimate as less than ten miles an hour. Even with the tinted windows, with a slight skip of her heart she recognised it as belonging to her father…

...but there was the sensation of disquiet in the back of her mind, narrowing one eye, that said something wasn't quite right. Papa was a sensible and law-abiding driver, so why was he driving so slowly in one of the Upper City side roads, where the speed limit was twenty-five?

Any further thoughts to that peculiarity went flying out of the window when Frost, Pitch and Harvester, appearing from the left, top and bottom of the frame respectively, raised their rifles and opened fire. Elsa gasped a sharp and shaky breath that melded with the collective gasps of her team, watching as three rifles soundlessly burst to life and punched dozens of holes into the front and side windows. Tears welled in her eyes, and her hand sang with pain thanks to the teeth that were sunk into her fingers, as the fire did not stop until - she assumed, with a light head - their ammunition ran dry.

"Holy shit…" Rapunzel breathed.

Her hand trembling, Elsa gulped as Frost moved to curiously peer at something off-screen, moments before the three Ghosts darted out of frame to the right. For a long time, Elsa's vision, her heart, her mind was filled with the image of a car torn apart, her lungs unable to decide between sucking in air or never working again. The recording taunted her; seconds went by while _nothing_ happened, while her parents were left in that car. Undignified, unprotected, alone.

"The…" Astrid said, her voice sounding, in the peripheral edges of Elsa's awareness, strained, "the time-stamp says nineteen forty-one. What was...what was the - uh - time Frost rescued Anna?"

"Around nineteen fifty-five," Rapunzel said quietly.

Feeling fainter by the second, Elsa found the strength to murmur, "They could still have done it. They could still have...done this, and travelled down to the Nether in time."

"I dinnae think so, lass."

All eyes whirled around to Merida, who stood watching the screen with a tray holding four glasses of synth-gin - which was the only synthohol in the house, Elsa didn't much like it - an expression of resolve etched on her rosy features.

"Red, the timestamp holds up," Astrid pointed out exasperatedly. "The timeline makes sense."

"Aye, it might." Merida said as she placed the tray next to the one Elsa brought in earlier. "But them doin' it doesnae make sense."

Elsa's anger swelled within, the same anger that gripped her heart and drove her through every single event over the past three years. "Please, Merida. Illuminate me on how you know more than visual evidence," she snapped.

Merida looked at her, and there was none of the indignant offense Elsa expected in her sky-blue eyes. In fact, her expression hadn't changed a bit. "Lassie, while you were away with tha fairies in tha _Star's_ cafeteria, I was inches away from gettin' chopped in half by Harvester. He broke ma bow, he broke ma sword. I was on tha floor, completely defenseless. He coulda killed me if he wanted tae - but he didn't. 'Cause I - and I'm quotin' him here - was never a threat. Tell me, just how," she paused to stride past her and gesture at the screen, "were yer parents a threat to them?"

Elsa closed her eyes, sighing. "Be that as it may, Merida, the evidence and timeline-"

That time, she _did_ get a rise. Whirling around, hands open and arms held slightly away from her body, Merida fixed her with incredulity. "Really? That's it? We come all tha way over here 'cause ye finally started usin' yer brain, and when tha first piece of evidence against 'em shows up, ye roll over'n show yer belly?"

"Only when the recording clearly shows them doing it!" Astrid said in a sing-song voice.

"But did they? Rapunzel," she gestured at the brunette, who started in surprise, "you told me Flynn had ye at gunpoint. Astrid," she turned, gesturing as well, "Pitch was gonna snap yer neck, but stopped. An' Elsa? Frost had ye on yer knees, with yer own blade against yer neck. All four of us could'a been killed, yet we're all standin' here, debatin'. Use yer brains, ladies."

Elsa shot her a scowl. Indignant, she opened her mouth and prepared to let loose a volley of less-than-gentle, Astrid-level reprimands for the flame-curled woman's rudeness, and would have done so had it not been for the comparatively small voice to her left.

"There might be a way to find out for sure."

All eyes snapped over to Rapunzel, who recoiled backwards slightly under the somewhat-irked gazes of three stubborn women. Her throat dipped and rose in a courageous gulp, her hands wringing themselves together while held in front of her. Elsa knew Rapunzel disliked confrontation - she wasn't one to back down from it if there was no other option, but she preferred peace over war. "How?" Elsa asked, quietly and in her bravest attempt at 'gently'.

"Um - can I do it? It's just - I'm not quite sure how to explain…"

Elsa hesitated for a moment - as much as she appreciated the help, this was technically _her_ investigation, and she wasn't sure she was ready to hand over the wheel. She cast a glance at Astrid, who merely shrugged as if to say ' _can't do any harm'._ Sighing, she nodded. "Uni-Com, authorise Rapunzel Corona for voice recognition and operation."

" _Confirmed. Please state phrase for tone and speech analysis."_

Rapunzel once again became the target of three pairs of eyes, and her own eyes widened to go nicely with the spontaneous blush in her cheeks. "Um - I see the light?" she said lamely, and when Astrid cocked an eyebrow and looked at her bemusedly, said, "What? It was the first thing I could think of! It kinda - put me on the spot…"

The resultant awkwardness that landed in the room, heavy enough to lean against was put aside when the Uni-Com announced, " _Analysis complete. Awaiting command, Miss Corona."_

Rapunzel stiffened like a child would do if a tutor asked them a question out of the blue, and the blush deepened slightly. "Um - wow, okay, um…"

Impatient with her team-mate's awkward hesitation, Elsa rested her hands on her hips, tapped her left foot and exhaled a quiet breath through her nose.

"This is gonna be a bit complicated, Uni-Com, are you ready?"

Even the Uni-Com sounded exasperated, its speech-line flickering with, " _It would appear so."_

"Okay," Rapunzel said, and repeated the same word to herself a few more times, before taking a deep breath through her nose. "I want you to create two holographic representations of the Ghost known as Frost, in colour, using the newest software update for holo-communication. For the first one, collect, analyse and combine all visual data from Unity military recordings to create the closest you can - five percent margin for error. For the second, collect, analyse and combine visual data from all security camera recordings of the shooting of Agdar and Idun Snowfield."

Elsa gave her a look that danced between impressed and surprised, and when she caught her eye, Rapunzel shrugged. "What? I had a lot of time to play. Haven't been sleeping well, remember?"

Assorted murmurs of " _aye"_ and " _know the feeling"_ greeted her statement.

Elsa's eyes returned to the screen, where a progress bar began to fill and windows appeared and disappeared in the space of a second, each one of Frost's face, upper body or entire body in various poses and situations, with white labels connected to lines attached to various highlighted body parts popping up. Some where he was casually stood, others where he was mid-strike against a helpless clone soldier. Most of them Elsa recognised from her studies in how to beat him - she figured if she could learn his moves, assess his strengths and weaknesses, it would give her an advantage.

The progress bar reached the midway point. The military images shrank away, replaced by three small screens on the right where three different recordings were played in parallel, each one showing the shooting with perfect timing, from completely different directions. Just like the ones before, white labels popped up attached to lines from each of his limbs - at least, Elsa assumed that was the case, as she looked away as soon as they opened fire on the car.

There was a dull _ping,_ and Elsa looked back at the screen just as the progress bar was filled. " _Data analysis and collection complete. Accuracy - ninety-eight percent. Parameters met. Ready to initiate holographic projection."_

Elsa's heart skipped a beat, and took a step up to her throat - two copies of Frost were about to stand in her living room. Her once-enemy, and the only person to arouse fierce emotions within her aside from Anna just by sight alone. She looked at Astrid and Merida, who were busy taking steps away from both her _and_ the Uni-Com. Whether or not they were more concerned with her reaction, or the space needed for the projection she didn't know - but assumed the latter and followed suit.

"Begin," she said.

Just as it did when she requested the device make a holographic image of her family months ago, a horizontal blue beam of light burst to life from the Uni-Com's black table-like structure, but this time it split into two. Both beams swept from left to right like a cursor at alarming speed, ' _writing'_ the figures of Frost into the space given to it by the three women. Line by line, layer by layer, the beam rose vertically as it created Frost's legs, the left one wearing combat boots and black pants and the right wearing the same but nowhere near as well-worn or dirty; his torsos, where the left image wore a black tank top and the right, a beige Lower-City style jacket; his arms, where both images held the staff vertically in their right hand but only the left image wore a bracer on the forearm; and the head, both with masks that covered their faces from the nose downwards.

The beams of light narrowed to a paper-thin line to ' _write'_ the last few strands of his inimitable white hair, and Elsa took a shaky breath as her eyes traced over his face. From a non-subjective standpoint - she did find him visually appealing, but she didn't know if that was down to the emotions simply _looking_ at him aroused. Emotions stuck in a conflict between rage and the desire to punch the images in the face, and guilt and the wish to apologise.

"Last time I was this close to him," Astrid commented, "he was dragging me along the _Star's_ deck."

"Or when you were riding him," Elsa said under her breath - evidently not quietly enough as there was a low growl from her right.

"Are you ever _not_ going to throw that in my face?"

"Okay!" Merida blurted far too loudly for it to be casual, "so we're playin' a life-size game of spot tha difference?"

Astrid's response was spectacularly deadpan as she circled behind the images. "I got one - their clothes are different."

"Wow…" Rapunzel said with delicious sarcasm, something that earned her a whap up the back of her head from the taller Valkyrie.

"I got another," Merida joined in, and moved around to stand by Elsa, whose gaze danced between both pairs of Frost's eyes, feeling the uncomfortable prickle of a forgotten memory like a tiny fire of frustration in her heart. "Bracer," Merida said, pointing to the left one, "no bracer," and then to the right when she finished.

Astrid walked through the images. Frost-B's right arm flickered and briefly dematerialised as she passed through, and knitted itself together instantaneously as soon as she took position directly in front of Elsa and to Merida's left. Huffing, Elsa muttered a silent curse and moved to stand by Astrid, where she could see. "I got something better," Astrid said, smirking. "The eyes are different. Left-Frost has blue eyes, Right-Frost has brown. This guy," she said with the air of victory, like she was the winner of some competition Elsa was unaware of, "is the real deal. This is Frost. That guy," she paused to wave dismissively at the other image, "is about as fake as Commander Larsen's nicey-nice smile."

"How...how do you know that for sure?" Elsa said, swallowing thickly. There was something in the resolve on Astrid's face, in the way she spoke that left no room for doubt, that aroused a sensation of dread and fear in her newly-churning stomach. Could she be right? Was the Frost that killed her parents, merely an impostor?

Astrid took little time to twist the metaphorical knife. "Just like you said," she turned to face her, and wore one of the most smug smirks Elsa would have dearly loved to wipe off her face, had it not felt like her entire world was falling down, "when I was riding him. Can't really miss his eyes when you're on top - at least, when my mind wasn't being-"

"Astri-i-i-d," Rapunzel sang anxiously. "Not helpi-i-i-ng!"

Still smirking, Astrid chuckled and moved a step back, allowing Elsa to really let her words sink in. Not to mention try and block out the mental image of a naked Astrid furiously riding Frost - it had taken her _days_ to wipe it from her mind after the bathroom incident. Exhaling a long, focusing breath through her mouth, she attempted to distract herself by dancing her gaze between the two pairs of eyes, mentally willing her memory recall to work faster.

It wasn't until Merida, oblivious, said, "Okay - so why are tha eyes different on tha right?"

The realisation hit Elsa like a young-corporal-sized brick wall, and the prickle of frustration became full-blown understanding. " _Their eyes are always the same shade of brown."_

Though her throat and mouth instantly became drier than a desert, and though the task consciously seemed impossible, she forced out four words barely above a croaked whisper.

"Because he's a clone."

* * *

Fifteen minutes ago, Elsa would have politely declined any offer of synthohol, citing its disagreeable taste and capability to remove control and inhibition from the consumer. She very much disliked the idea of making a fool of herself thanks to too much of it.

Sat on her sofa, with her left elbow on her knee and forehead in her left hand, _she was on her second synth-gin._

It was all a lie.

An elaborate deception.

She leaned back slightly to take another sip - gulp - out of the glass in her right hand, and forced her eyes shut to try and stem the tears sliding from her reddened eyes, and more importantly to try and think of something else other than the fact that for three years, her rage and violent heart had been directed at the wrong man.

Frost was completely innocent. He was telling the truth the whole time, and she rewarded his honesty with a deep gash in his back and two vicious cuts to his arm and cheek - not to mention the alienation of her sister. Her left hand moved down to her mouth and trembled, while she opened her eyes to stare, numb, at the floor. Everything she was, all the skills she had learned and the training she received, and all the paramilitary groups she personally apprehended was all in service of a lie told by someone who violated her grief, harnessed her rage and pointed her at someone _knowing_ she would pursue them to the ends of the earth. The cost? Her sister's admiration and love for her.

She could almost _feel_ the strings she was tangled up in.

She was barely aware of Astrid and Merida, both having chosen to remain silent and occupy themselves with their own thoughts, and even less aware of Rapunzel who was focused for some unknown reason on the holographic image of Frost's clone. What she _was_ aware of was her trembling limbs, the cold tingling in her chest of dread and guilt, and the slow thumping of her heart against her ribs like a sluggish boxer.

Just how in the hell was she going to make it right? Was it even possible?

There was a resigned sigh from the general vicinity of the static images, and a second later Elsa was peripherally aware of someone moving to stand in her vision - at least, a pair of legs. Given that Astrid and Merida had not moved from where the former was perched on the sofa's right arm, and where the latter was standing by the huge living room windows, staring out into the world with her arms folded, the legs could only belong to Rapunzel.

A vague assumption confirmed when she spoke. "Elsa's right - the Frost on the video of the shooting is a clone."

Elsa let loose a shaky, weak breath. Part of her had hoped she was wrong, so she wouldn't have to face the ugly truth of what she'd done. She covered her eyes with the trembling hand, murmuring, "...this can't be happening, this can't be happening," over and over again.

"How do you know?" Astrid asked the sixty-four thousand credit question.

Elsa knew the answer before it was even uttered. "It's the eyes." Rapunzel moved to sit between her and Astrid, leaned back into the sofa and proceeded to explain. "You can clone anyone you want, but there's a weird genetic quirk where every clone's eyes are brown. No matter how hard the cloning techs tried to eliminate it."

"Ye seem tae know a lot about it," Merida said, turning from the window.

Rapunzel shrugged. "Mom and Dad lead the organisation that's in control of all Unity's medical needs, remember?"

"So, there could be copies of Frost, Pitch and Harvester running around Unity territory?" Astrid asked. Slowly becoming more and more attuned to the conversation, Elsa could easily pick out a hint of disquiet in her voice.

"Nope - because of the accelerated aging process, average lifespan of a clone is about three years. This particular flavour of Frost," she pointed lamely at the closest image, "has probably been recycled by now. The question is - what does it all mean?"

Elsa felt a surge of strength and energy - whether that was down to the numbing qualities of the synthohol or the opportunity to investigate something else thus taking her mind off her self-hate, she didn't know nor care - and as she sat upright she downed the rest of the glass and said, "It means someone went to great lengths to orchestrate the deaths of my parents, and frame the Ghosts for the crime. I want to know who, and why."

"You'll be happy to know there's a way to do that."

Elsa's head whirled right to fix Rapunzel with a wide-eyed look. "There is?"

She nodded, and smiled. "Sure. Cloning is strictly regulated by the government, and it's only really used for making soldiers. So, all orders, military or not, are recorded. Prevents any unauthorised growing of clones for...personal use."

Astrid snorted, and joked, "What, you mean like growing a clone of your crush so you can sleep with them whenever you want?"

Rapunzel nodded. "Pretty much, yeah," she said, albeit obliviously. Astrid paled slightly, and her once-amused expression contorted into a lip-curl of disgust.

She shuddered. "What? Ew!"

Elsa felt a small swell of nausea, shivered uncomfortably, and tried not to think about the prospect of someone obtaining her DNA to create copies they could have their merry way with. Her life had already been violated enough as it was. "So, I need to access cloning records, then?"

"Ayep. Should tell you who ordered the copies - or at the very least, the security cameras outside each facility should tell us who was there at the time the order was placed, 'cause someone physically has to be there. Maybe it's someone you recognise."

Elsa's eyes lingered on Rapunzel for a moment, scratching her chin. "Sounds a little too easy."

"It might be easy," she shrugged, "or it might be a dead end. Whoever it is could've put the order under a false name, or did it through a middleman. I just think it's worth a shot, 'cause even if it's some proxy, they'll be able to lead us to the real culprit."

Elsa stopped scratching her chin, and pushed on her knee to stand. "Okay," she declared, resting her free hand on her hip, "we'll go with your suggestion. The Uni-Com is all yours."

Rapunzel's left side of her lips curled up, and she stepped back to give Elsa a clear walkway to the Uni-Com. "Actually - I thought you might like to take back control. This could be what breaks the investigation wide open, so it's only fitting you take the wheel."

Elsa looked away, blushing with slight shyness that she valiantly attempted to cover by draining the last of her synth-gin. The liquid burned its way past her tongue and down her throat, leaving behind a bitter lemon-like taste she had the odd feeling she could get used to. Quietly thanking her, Elsa placed the glass on the tray Merida brought through and positioned herself between the two images of Frost - and for a fleeting moment, wondered just what in the hell she would say to the _real_ man should they ever meet again. Quirking her lips, she hoped something that would stop him from killing her.

Swallowing, she brought herself back to the real world. "Uni-Com, end holo-imaging session and begin new search," she commanded.

There was a quiet flurry of footsteps as her team-mates walked to stand behind her, and the images obediently faded into nothingness, leaving no trace they had ever been there. The speech-line fluctuated, replying, " _Awaiting parameters."_

Elsa spoke clearly, enunciating each word to the point of self-conscious, "Access records of all cloning facilities in Unity territory, specifically those before July twenty-seventy. Access code…" and proceeded to repeat her Valkyrie I.D.

" _There are over two million results. Specify."_

Elsa looked at Rapunzel, who blinked with a blank look as though she was a world away. "Oh!" she said shyly, "my bad. I was...kinda thinking about...someone. Um," she frowned in thought, her right hand coming up to softly click her fingers, "average cloning process takes about three weeks from mitosis to maturation and birth, so," the same fingers curled into a loose fist while the index finger tapped the air while she seemingly counted in her head, "maybe the first two weeks of June?"

"Why the extra week?" Astrid asked, "and how do you know so much about cloning?"

"A crash course in weapons training and practise, I assume," Elsa answered, her gaze lingering on the brunette, "and that's a good question."

Rapunzel rolled her eyes, and shrugged. "Remember how my family develops, creates and manufactures all things medical? Dad once went to a cloning facility to see whether it was viable to clone new limbs, thinking they could replace the cybernetics we use now. Told me all about it when he got back home."

"And are they viable?" Elsa asked.

"Nah." Rapunzel waved dismissively. "Say what you want about metal arms, but at least you don't have to replace _them_ every three years."

Elsa's brow rose once as she uttered an enlightened ' _huh'._ Rapunzel was proving to be not just important, but practically critical to the investigation. Turning her head back toward the Uni-Com, she relayed the details and waited.

The progress bar once again appeared as it did before, this time with hundreds and hundreds of thin rectangles, each separated into days and _all_ possessing a red hue. Her fingers feeling agitated and eager to be used, Elsa requested the Uni-Com display the results in holographic form - sure, it was slower than voice command, but her knuckles and joints were feeling a little stiff and in need of exercise. Sure enough, a huge column, seven high and two deep, filled the air in front of her with its translucent red goodness, each thin rectangle housing a sequence of numbers and letters. Rapunzel immediately clarified Elsa's unspoken question - reference numbers, followed by a dash and the word _BASIC._

"That's interesting," Elsa murmured. Her hands moved up to 'press' the top left and bottom right corners of a square headed _June 6th,_ and as she pulled them apart, the square grew thus making the group of ten reference numbers more legible. "All of these codes are the same."

"My guess is those numbers are to do with clone troop orders," Rapunzel shrugged, "see how they're pretty much identical, and ordered in batches of ten? Only the military would order them in bulk like that."

"Makes sense," Astrid said.

Murmuring her second ' _huh'_ of the evening, Elsa made a wiping motion and the red square obediently shot off to the left and disappeared. She repeated the process of enlarging, scanning and then wiping away the batches of records under _June 7th, 8th_ and _9th,_ until she happened upon the box of records under _June 10th,_ where one reference number was not like the others. Enlarging it, she squinted slightly as she read the order to herself - _0019255-10/7-TITAN._

"Rapunzel," she said, her eyes lingering on the last word, "what's a _Titan?"_

Her team-mate gave her a mildly bewildered look. "You're asking me? I'm as confused as you."

Elsa shrugged lightly. Fair enough. Seeing nothing else out of the ordinary, her hand consigned _that_ particular set of records to oblivion, and set about doing the same to _June 11th_ and _12th_ since their reference numbers all ended with _BASIC._

It was on _June 13th,_ however, that something stood out. Enlarged by her fingers, the group of fifteen reference numbers grew to well beyond the size of those Elsa previously examined, purely because they were definitely out of the ordinary, and she wanted to be certain she wasn't seeing things.

"Ye got somethin'?"

Elsa curled an arm across her chest, to rest her right elbow on it while she stroked her chin. "Maybe, Merida. There are five orders here, and all of their reference numbers end with numerical digits, not words. See?" she said, and pointed to where the orders ended with _0001, 0002, 0003, 0004_ and _0005._ "I can't see 'basic' or 'Titan'. Do you think this could be the Ghost clone order?"

"One sec," Merida said, and used her fingers to enlarge the last two squares. Squinting slightly, she scrutinized each rectangle belonging to the last two days, and announced, "I reckon they could be. It's all clone trooper orders here."

Elsa exhaled through pursed lips, frowning while her eyes remained immovably fixed upon the five reference numbers. There they were, the Ghost clones, ordered and trained to assassinate her parents. Her eyes moved down to the last two, and wondered for a second who _they_ were. Maybe they were just back-up copies, in case something went wrong with the first set.

The final hurdle to the truth. "Uni-Com, under whose name were these five orders placed?"

" _Working,"_ the ever-so-useful device answered. The rectangle with the number 0001 was briefly highlighted with a white border as the Uni-Com tried to access its details.

There was a dull beep, and the rectangle flashed with a deeper, more opaque red. " _Access denied. Clearance level Omega or above required."_

Elsa frowned, and shot a look of confusion at her team-mates. "That's base commander level."

"Why do I get the feeling this goes high up the food chain?" Astrid sighed with dread.

"Base commander," Rapunzel said, "as in...Commander Hans Larsen kinda thing?"

Merida stepped forward, and pointed at the records. "Wait - are we sayin' it was him that ordered tha copies?"

Elsa shook her head. "No, Hans wouldn't have done this. He's been nothing but kind and helpful to me, especially when I joined the program. He looked out for me."

"Well whoever it is," Rapunzel said, tapping Elsa lightly on the arm, "don't forget the security cameras outside. Should be able to access those."

Elsa's heart began to race, and her breathing came in light pants. Anticipation gripped her mind. With one simple command, she could find out who was _really_ responsible for orphaning her and her sister - and bring with her the wrath of three years of pain, betrayal, and rage at being used like a puppet.

"Uni-Com," she murmured, slightly breathlessly, "access security camera records at the time of these five orders."

The red-hued square disappeared into oblivion. " _Working,"_ the Uni-Com's speech line said, as a set of options blinked into existence on the right of the screen, with _FACILITY CAMERAS_ automatically selected as soon as the list was fully populated. Lips parted, Elsa watched and waited as a further list of rectangles took their place, with the third one rapidly blinking due to its selection by the device.

Just like all the other recordings she watched, the screen was filled with the nine o'clock high viewpoint of a camera, vigilantly observing the entrance to the reflective glass double doors into Zone Twenty Five's cloning facility. It was obsessively clean, even through blue-hued eyes Elsa couldn't see a patch of dirt or even a paving slab out of place, and the clone trooper guards stood either side of the doors barely moved an inch. Anticipation made way for impatience in Elsa's heart - but she didn't wait long.

Her heart skipped a beat when a man in a military dress uniform strode into view from the bottom left corner of the frame. A service cap obscured his head, much to her chagrin and a muttered curse, and he looked back once before reaching a hand out to open the door, past the respectful salutes of the guards.

"Damn it. Uni-Com, is there any way to find out the identity of this man?" she blurted, nearly tripping over her words.

" _Affirmative; however, accuracy cannot be guaranteed. Maximum - sixty percent."_

Elsa stiffened. There was still a chance. "Do it," she practically barked, "and display result in a holographic image."

" _Extrapolating identity based on available parameters. Please wait."_

A progress bar appeared at the bottom of the frame. The recording rewound itself to the moment the man appeared, and in a similar way to when the Uni-Com analysed Frost's body dimensions and details, several labels popped up connected to the man's limbs. The playback continued, rewound itself once more and continued again, repeating the process several times - _including_ utilising the man's distorted reflection in the double doors and even the smallest detail in the visors of the guards.

The progress bar reached the end with another dull _bing._ " _Extrapolation complete. Ready for projection. Caution - sixty percent accuracy."_

"It will do," Elsa said quickly, excitement driving her, "proceed with projection."

The Uni-Com answered its obedience, and the blue laser burst out in a single beam, writing the identity of the man from the feet up. Elsa felt a hand rest itself on her shoulder, and glanced quickly enough to notice it belonged to Rapunzel without missing too much of the projection's creation.

The laser passed by the man's dress jacket, with several medals and ribbons on the left breast. Some of them Elsa recognised, but others were a little too distorted for her to make out, much like the name tag below them. The epaulets were bare - something she momentarily cursed, as the person's rank would've been helpful if the facial characteristics were not detailed enough.

The Uni-Com finished its approximation of the man's face, completing its building of his identity. However, just as the image was built up, Elsa's world fell down, and her chance at justice slipped through her fingers. Her face went blank in shock, an emotion that even forced her to stumble two steps back and utter a gasp - something that mingled with the collective gasps of her team-mates.

"Oh my God…" Rapunzel breathed.

"This...this goes way higher than I thought…" Astrid murmured with uncharacteristic worry.

"Aye - try _near tha top,"_ Merida said.

For Elsa wasn't looking at just any old member of the military, or any rank-and-file base commander. No, she was looking at the thick sideburns, stern hazel eyes and immaculately cut facial hair belonging to only _one_ person.

Supreme Commander Henrik Larsen.

* * *

 


	32. Hurt the Ones Closest to You

" **Hurt** **The Ones Closest to You"**

_Location: New Burgess_

_Date: November 30th_

_Time: 01:23_

The tip of the pen-like cellular regenerator, stolen from a settlement pharmacy on the way, glowed with a soft, translucent vermillion hue as Jack used it to slowly trace an imaginary line down his various cuts and bruises adorning his knuckles, watching them rapidly begin to knit together or fade. Medals of a fight that he didn't really need to join, and aching reminders that violence often did little to make him feel better. Not to mention - he was probably banned from the little fight club as soon as he left. Gamblers don't tend to like someone who can defeat their strongest opponent - and if Jack was honest, his training combined with the physiological alterations to his body during his Bloom Event gave him an unfair advantage.

But he didn't go into the club looking for a worthy opponent, or even a challenge. He just wanted to vent his hurt, his rage, to make someone _else_ hurt as much as Anna hurt him.

Maybe that was why the wind took him to that house, of all places. Where the decaying furniture was strewn across the floor downstairs and a thick smell of mildew hung in the air, where a huge scorch mark sat proudly on the wall opposite the main bedroom, and where a wardrobe was laid on its side. Something that provided adequate cover while he sat slumped against the wall opposite the door, his legs forming a triangle as he tended to his minor wounds.

Three years, and 1180 Boundary Line hadn't changed a bit.

Maybe the wind took him there, so that even if his friendship with Anna was in pieces on the floor - he could still feel close to her.

And you can't get closer than sitting in the exact place _she_ hid, over three years ago.

* * *

_Date: November 29th_

_Time: 16:30_

_Nine hours earlier…_

Food replication dispensary lines sucked, but Jack already knew that. One dispensary per settlement, so when the population of these small communities often reached two hundred souls, it wasn't exactly efficient. Especially when the average replication time was around five minutes per meal. Sure, it was shorter than cooking the old fashioned way, but five minutes multiplied by however many meals someone was ordering for their family, and then by however many people were in line...

He'd been in line for two hours, under the dwindling light of the evening sky. Which was actually pretty good, in the grand scheme of things.

He unfolded his arms to scratch his head through his navy hood, sighed with impatience, and refolded them. He adjusted his weight to his right hip, giving his left leg a chance to rest. Tired of staring at the balding patch of the man in front - being a head taller, all Jack could see was a patch of shine surrounded by a ring of black - he tried to distract himself with having a look around the settlement's main square, where the dispensary was situated. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; children played conservatively with worn soccer balls and thin sticks masquerading as bowling pins, men and women engaged in light conversation, and the occasional militia patrol every now and then. Men armed with stun rifles and given basic training, meant to keep the settlements in order in lieu of clone guards. Jack knew to pull the hood a little closer whenever he saw them.

It was as he was watching the children, four girls and three boys, playing the weird version of soccer-pin-bowling that he noticed something curious - or rather, _someone._ A short, skinny man, almost malnourished, with a long hooked nose, short black hair and cloaked in a faded teal overcoat that was _way_ too big for him. Which wasn't exactly conspicuous, except he was talking rather surreptitiously with a man twice his size and width, and _far_ meaner looking, both shooting furtive glances at the militia. The line moved forward, and Jack took one step whilst watching the two converse.

He was curious, undoubtedly. The two were up to something illegal, he was certain. Which meant he had to stay well away - unwanted attention was the last thing the Ghosts needed in their fractured state. Putting the conversation out of mind, he returned his attention to Bald-Patch and began mentally whittling down the members of the food line with imaginary miniature tactical missiles. Boom - one down. Line shorter. Something to alleviate the tedium.

"Psst."

Jack turned his head to the right, and looked down at the source of the sound - the skinny man, who looked even _less_ trustworthy up close. He frowned with half-irritation and half-suspicion, something the man returned with a sly smirk. Great. He already had his hood up, what more did he need to do to stay inconspicuous? An invisibility cloak?

"Name's Panik. Like 'panic', but with a K."

"Don't care," Jack grunted, looking back at the bald patch.

"Like the attitude. You look like a guy who can fight. Am I right?" he said in a rapid, secretive hiss.

Jack rolled his eyes and sighed, trying not to mentally punch Panik's face in. "What makes you think that?"

"Way you carry yourself, man. Confident. Proud. Strong. You got a fighter in you. Maybe a leader."

Jack was now mentally roundhouse kicking him, especially when Panik violated his personal space and grasped his right bicep with thin, stick-like fingers. "See? You got muscles. Strong muscles. Tough muscles. You're fit."

Jack looked down at the hand, and slowly looked back up at Panik's tiny black pupils and yellowing sclera - a silent threat for the short man to release his arm or start eating his own teeth. Wisely, Panik quickly let go and pocketed his hands in his coat. "What's it to you?" Jack growled.

Panik leaned in closer, so he was close to Jack's shoulder, and hissed, "Warehouse, one mile east. Storage basement. Fight club. You wanna fight? Earn some credits? You should go there. Password is ' _soap'_ "

The reply of ' _whatever'_ that was on the tip of Jack's tongue disappeared when one of the militiamen walking towards them, a tall and stocky man with a button nose, hard eyes and spectacularly bushy beard, began yelling at Panik to ' _get the fuck outta here, ya parasite!'_ and advanced, menacingly flailing his arms. Panik ducked his head and promptly scurried away through the line leaving a half-relieved, half-anxious Jack behind to deal with the militiaman.

Stopping just short of a metre away whilst glaring at Panik's receding figure, and smelling decidedly foul, the man grunted, "Sorry 'bout him. He's vermin. Got two people killed, but the idiot gets to stay 'cause the Archon likes him." He turned his eyes to Jack, and gave him the sizing-up look. "You alright? He didn't try to recruit you into nothin'?"

Jack slowly shook his head. "He tried, but I'm not interested. Just wanna get my food and go home," he said, with as casual a voice as he could muster.

The man grunted, a single chuckle. "Fuckin' A. See you 'round, and keep on the right side o' the law, ya hear?"

Jack indicated that he fully intended just that, and the gorilla of a man stalked off with his bully-friends in the same direction Panik went. Whistling a breath through pursed lips, Jack watched him leave through the corner of his eyes, and counted his blessings that the big guy hadn't noticed the temperature around him dropping a few degrees.

* * *

_Time: 17:45_

Three long raps and three short raps echoed from the front door just as Jack was pulling the plastic trays of food from his shoulder bag and putting them on the circular table a few metres away - with about as much care as someone who was losing the ability to care, at least. Despite the sequence being the specific set, he still reached his arm around to the back of his brown pants and grasped the handle of his Colt M1911. Eyeing the door, creating a surreal scene where a trained soldier was holding a weapon in one hand and a plate of chicken casserole in the other, Jack tensed as the door slowly opened, and relaxed as a head of shaggy chocolate-brown hair poked through.

"Hey, Hic," he greeted him flatly, releasing the pistol and resuming dishing up.

Hiccup waved, closing the door behind him. "Hey, boss - that smells good, what is it?"

"Chicken casserole. Nothing fancy. Patrol debrief?"

Hiccup shrugged, chin to his chest as he unclipped his P90 from his utility vest. "Uhm - saw two squirrels making sweet, sweet music; clone squad doing maneuvers a mile and a half north, a-a-a-and a dog ran across my patrol path."

"Exciting as usual, then."

Hiccup nodded whilst unzipping his vest, and walked over to the table where he placed both it and the P90 on the chair between them. "Pretty much. Toothless catch anything?"

"Nope," Jack sighed as he sat in a nearby chair and pulled one of the plastic plates toward him, "no scorch marks, no blown-up or chewed bodies. I still find it hilarious you left him behind to guard the house."

"Hey!" Hiccup chuckled as he sat opposite, grabbed a plate and began stabbing at pieces of chicken with his fork, "no better guard than a dragon."

Jack sniggered quietly, and proceeded to stuff bits of chicken and vegetables into his mouth with zero dignity - waiting in line was hungry work. The two Ghosts ate in relative silence, with Hiccup occasionally laughing under his breath - Jack figured it was the humping squirrels that was tickling him so much.

It was when Hiccup's eyes flicked up to the unused plate of casserole directly to Jack's right that he asked the question constantly on Jack's mind, but one he didn't want vocalised. "Is Anna any better?"

Jack shook his head, and practically put the fork through the plate with one hell of a stab, something that made his friend frown. "No."

Hiccup was a clever guy; he'd have figured out the only reason Jack hadn't taken Anna's plate and knocked on her door was that he was hoping she would come out of her own accord. At least, that was what Jack hoped he figured out.

"Well, maybe Koz will have an idea when he comes back tomorrow," Hiccup offered nonchalantly, and hunched over his plate, curling an arm around it as he returned his attention to his food.

Jack's only response was a grunt, and the continuance of a silent meal. The notion of Kozmotis being able to pull Anna out of her room and not her best friend left a bitter and jealous taste, and he found it odd that for someone who said it hurt so much when her sister shut her out, _she_ was pulling the same thing.

Eager to distract himself, Jack threw a question he was certain would be right up Hiccup's alley. "Hey - didn't you say you almost finished Inferno?"

Hiccup's initial frown of puzzlement turned into a bright face of enthusiasm, like Jack had asked him the best question in the world. Mouth full of chicken, he nodded emphatically and slid his chair back with a wooden scrape, and then swallowed his mouthful in one gulp so large Jack wondered if he was going to choke himself. "I finished it! Turns out the emitters weren't aligning properly."

Jack frowned, and tilted his head. "Emitters?"

Hiccup grinned. "Wait right there," he said excitedly. He darted to the front door, yanked it open and shot out of the house faster than Jack could shove a forkful of peppers into his mouth. Shrugging, as Hiccup's enthusiasm regarding technology wasn't exactly out of the ordinary, Jack looked down and amused himself with organising his food into separate piles. Chicken on one side, and so on.

The door burst open with such force that he instinctively reached for his Colt, but yet again it was only Hiccup wielding an orange power cell for a stun pistol in his right hand, and what looked like a sickle with a _very_ shallow curve in the other. It reminded him of the swords used by the Egyptians, in Kozmotis' collected history books...before they sank to the bottom of the Atlantic, of course, along with every other piece of historical significance he ever collected. A khopesh, or something. Grinning like Christmas had come early, Hiccup stood between him and the door and showed it off.

"Nice, huh?"

Jack's eyes went to Inferno, and back to Hiccup. "It's a sword," he deadpanned.

The excitement became smug excitement. Wiggling his eyebrows, and to Jack's confusion when he slid the power cell into the sword's pommel, Hiccup said, "Oh, it's much more than that, my friend."

Using the heel of his palm to shove the cell fully inside, Hiccup held it well away from him and pressed a silver button on the hilt. Jack's eyes went wide as a beam of red light burst forth from the bottom of the blade and shot to the top of the inner curve in the space of a split second, flickering happily and spurting off tiny dots of light that disappeared as soon as they left the main beam. There were times where he envied Hiccup's abnormality - especially when it meant he could create an _energy blade._

"Okay - now _that_ is cool," Jack murmured.

"I know, right? Hey, throw me something."

"Like what?"

"I dunno!" Hiccup said in a loud, high voice, sounding as much the giddy schoolboy Jack was expecting, "what about the tray you brought the food on?"

Jack looked down at the plastic tray in the centre of the table. It wasn't exactly important, not like pretty much everything else they had, so with a shrug, he leaned forward to pick it up, stood, and prepared to throw it. "You sure about this?"

"No, I'm asking because I'm anxious and scared."

Jack relaxed slightly and shot him a look. "You being sarcastic?"

"Half," Hiccup replied, and tensed his body as he drew the sword up like a bat, "now, you gonna throw it or what?"

"Alright…" Jack said, and gently tossed it right at his nose.

Reacting quickly, Hiccup brought the sword vertically in front of him just in time for the tray to hit the beam of red light - and be sliced in two like a knife through butter. Both halves clattered behind him, the seared edges glowing slightly and giving off a rather repugnant smell of melted plastic, something Jack was oblivious to as he stared, wide-eyed in incredulity, at Inferno's flickering light.

"Holy crap…"

"I know, right?!" Hiccup said, beaming like a madman.

"Your sword just-"

"I know, right?! Sucks that it eats through a powercell in seconds, but pretty cool, right?!"

It was at that moment, all thoughts of Anna, Kozmotis, food, the Purge, Snow Queen, the Valkyries... _anything_ but the immensely impressive Inferno was cast out of his mind, in favour of only one thing:

What else could he throw at Hiccup's head?

* * *

_Time: 18:10_

They were laughing.

Anna could clearly hear them, even over heaving in her en-suite bathroom toilet. Over retching and praying that she would _actually_ throw up, rather than the painful squeeze of her stomach every time. Her entire chest was aching with involuntary spasms, she was holding herself up by the bathroom doorframe whilst her other hand rubbed soothing circles into her stomach, and they were _laughing._

She glared venomously at the closed bedroom door to the right, on the same side as her bathroom. How could they?

How could they find something funny at such a time, with all their friends and loved ones dead at hands of Unity?

With her right hand on the wall to steady herself, thanks to her legs being weakened from an entire day of kneeling over the toilet, Anna set her jaw and tried to stumble towards the door. Every single laugh made her feel like they were betraying the team. Betraying Kristoff. He was dead and they were _having fun._

Reaching the faded white door, where the paint peeled from age and decay, Anna turned the key and wrenched it open.

* * *

"Hey!"

Jack was midway through lobbing one of the tattered, empty picture frames from the wall behind him when he heard Anna call out, and for the first few seconds his heart leapt for joy. Wide-eyed and smiling with an open mouth, he turned his head to finally lay his eyes upon she who had been hiding in her room for days. He could finally talk to her again.

And then he saw her face while she hunched an arm over her stomach. Etched with contempt and indignant anger, she scowled murderously at him. His heart sank to the floor, whilst his arms fell to his sides just as Inferno ran out of juice with a quiet _sshht._ Why was she looking at him like that?

"Anna, I-"

"How _could_ you," she said with a vicious snarl. Jack flinched. He had never seen her like that.

"We were just-"

"What? Having _fun?_ Our friends are all dead and you're having _fun?_ You're _sick,"_ she spat.

Jack held up his hands, and said "Wait-", only to be interrupted by Anna slamming the door as hard as she could, hard enough to shake the walls and startle the usually calm Ghost.

He and Hiccup cast bewildered and decidedly hurt looks at each other. He wondered whether Hiccup was feeling as much shame as _he_ was, even though he had no idea why he felt ashamed in the first place. Carefully, Hiccup placed Inferno on the table with a thump and murmured, "Okay - _that_ happened."

"Yeah," Jack said. He inhaled a breath, and then swallowed. "She...she actually opened the door and...a-and…" he mumbled, lamely gesturing toward her bedroom with a floppy hand.

"Came out to tear our heads off," Hiccup said.

Jack slowly nodded, his eyes still fixed upon her door. Her face was burned into his memory, and likely would be for some time. Especially when he realised, with a stabbing pain in his heart, she didn't cast a single glance at Hiccup. No, her venom was reserved exclusively for him. "I need to-"

"Yeah," Hiccup said, interjecting and saving Jack the hassle of finishing the sentence. "I'll be in the barn. Maybe I can...I dunno. Maybe tweak Inferno a little. Good luck, boss."

Taking Jack's thanks, Hiccup picked Inferno up from the table and quickly left the room, and for a brief moment envy followed him. At least he was away from the awkwardness, and well away from ground zero. Psyching himself up with a deep breath, Jack thanked the stars that Anna had seemingly forgotten to lock her door behind her, and walked over to knock against it.

"Anna?" he said, softly. "It's me...can I come in?"

Silence followed, punctuated by the muffled sound of someone choking. His heart leaping into his mouth, a surge of adrenaline caused him to wrench open the door and burst in. "Anna! I'm coming, hold on-" he said, head darting around the candlelit room. He ran over to the other side of the bed in the bedroom's centre, but she was nowhere to be seen, though with only a dozen or so candles illuminating the room, it wasn't likely he could see a thing.

The choking stopped, followed by the flushing of the toilet - it was then that he realised she wasn't choking, she was vomiting. He turned to the bathroom door, feeling relief wash over him, just as it opened to reveal probably the coldest expression of anger he had ever seen aside from Snow Queen.

Her voice was low. "What do you want, Jack?"

"I...thought you were in trouble. I came to see if you were okay."

Anna scoffed, and rolled her eyes. Behind her, Jack could see several candles over the sink and toilet cistern. "I'm fine. Now you can go."

Jack frowned, and opened his hands at his sides. "Don't be like that, Anna. I'm sorry about before, just...will you please talk to me?"

"No," she said as she closed the door behind her, and made her way to the window. "There's nothing to say. So please, leave me alone. Go away."

"Anna, please-"

"Go. Away," she said, and her voice was becoming less and less calm with each syllable.

Jack straightened his body, and lifted his chin. Hoping to sound as authoritative as possible, he said the worst thing anyone could say, "I could order you to talk to me."

"Then you can go to hell," she snarled through gritted teeth, her back turned to him as she gazed out of the window.

"C'mon, Anna. You're my best friend. I'm not leaving without you," he said, stepping forward. Hoping. Praying. Each word she spoke was like a gut punch, but he had to keep trying. He knew she was hurting, maybe she was angry and he happened to walk into the line of fire?

"Yes. You are."

It was then that he noticed a healthy glow below his vision, and he looked down to find her left hand was clenched into a trembling, tight fist...and _aflame._ She wasn't fooling around. He took a step back when he realised - she was prepared to hurt him. Swallowing his pride, he fought the dull ache that began to blossom in his eyes and said, "Okay. I'll go, but only if you tell me why you're being like this to me."

"Why?" she croaked. "Gee, let me think. Over two hundred of our friends are dead. People we loved are dead. Our home was torn apart, and I am...a _widow._ I can't sleep. I can't eat much, and what I do I throw back up again. Any other stupid questions, or will you go now?"

If Jack's emotional state was a person, they'd be on the floor. Bruised and bleeding.

"Okay, if that's what you want," he said softly, casting his eyes down. "I just wanna say...I loved Kristoff too. He was my friend and...a good man."

"He was an idiot," Anna snapped.

"Don't say that…"

"He shouldn't have stayed," she said quietly. "He should have been behind us. He'd be alive if…"

"Anna…" Jack stepped forward, and reached out to hold her shoulder. "It's not his fault."

She shook off his hand and recoiled, like the very touch burned her. She whirled on her feet, her arms shooting up to protectively hold her chest, and stared at him with shimmering eyes of blame, anguish and fury. He flinched, and nearly fell back.

"You're right," she hissed. "It's not his fault. It's _yours."_

Jack opened his mouth, but found that no words could or _would_ come. His mouth and throat was as dry as a desert, his mind completely blank other than the question ' _...mine?'_ and his heart felt like she had took it in her hand and squeezed.

" _You_ slept with that Valkyrie. I told you not to and you did it anyway. The enemy, Jack. You fucked one of the women that sank our home, and killed my husband. You could have turned the ship around. You outranked Kozmotis, you could have ordered him to turn the ship around. We could have saved him, but you let him _die._ You let them _die!"_

Her words were a barrage of knives that cut his heart to pieces, one slice for every syllable. See, Jack was always fairly guarded around his friends, so if Kozmotis or Hiccup were to say the same thing, even with the same vitriol, he'd deal with it a lot better...or started a fight. Where Anna was concerned, though, he was wide open. Vulnerable. Exposed. She knew it, and she was going for the jugular.

Tears pricked at his eyes, try as he might to hold them back. He looked down, away from his once-best friend, and focused on the floor as he said in a small, lost voice, "...maybe you're right. I'm so sorry, Anna."

She scoffed, her entire body trembling with ill-concealed anger. "Sorry? Sorry?! Does ' _sorry'_ bring him back? No...you know what? Get out."

"Anna, please-" he tried to protest, but she was on him with her hands on his chest, pushing him back with such force he nearly fell over.

"Get out!" she said, pushing him again. Stumbling, Jack only just managed to stay upright.

"Wait, I just-"

"Getoutgetoutgetout!" she shrieked. "I hate you! I never want to see your face again! Get out!"

With one almighty push, she forced him through the open doorway so hard that he impacted the wall behind him, which shook when she slammed the door with enough force to register on the Richter scale. Numbly, he stared at the door, hearing the metallic scrape of the key being turned to lock him out. His energy left him, his will to do anything. He slumped against the wall, and slid to the floor. Burying his forehead in his hands, he exhaled loudly and tried not to weep, for he had a feeling that the solid friendship they had was nothing more than ash and cinders.

And maybe he _was_ to blame.

Sniffing, he lifted his head and ran his fingers through his hair, looking toward the living room whilst trying not to hear the muffled sobbing coming from Anna's room. The hallway felt narrow, like the walls were closing in on him, and even the living room at the end of the hallway seemed to be shrinking. He had to get out. He needed to think, and there was only _one_ way he could do that.

Fly.

* * *

_Time: 19:36_

To put it mildly, Jack was getting sick of being buffeted about by rogue gusts of wind. Soaring just under the clouds, hidden in the veil of night from random glances into the sky, the turbulence was becoming nauseating. Ten minutes ago, a surprise wind shear damn near swatted him out of the air like a bothersome bug.

It was common belief that an abnormal's powers, if they were externally manifested and not internally like Hiccup's or Hiro's, echoed their state of mind in subconscious ways...but it was getting ridiculous. There were only so many times Jack could be tossed about like a rag doll before he gave up.

But he knew the wind was chaotic, because _he_ was. Questions raged across his mind like a snowflakes in a blizzard. Was Anna right, and it was all his fault? Did he somehow lead Unity to the _Guardian Star,_ and seal the fate of all the souls on board?

Could they have saved Kristoff and Eugene, if he had just countermanded the order to flee?

And did Anna truly hate him, throwing their once-solid friendship into the wind?

His heart was hurting despite his repeated attempts to compartmentalise the pain, and the wind hurt with him. So he needed a place to either sit and think...or vent. Of course, the last time involved the _Star's_ gym, a punch bag, and Kozmotis' face. He had none of those things now.

A blast of wind hit him squarely in the front, instantly putting an end to his flight. He hovered there, several hundred metres from the ground, frowning as the memory of the afternoon's events pushed it's way into the front of his mind. There was one place he could go - and he flew over it half an hour back.

* * *

_Time: 20:06_

Jack raised a closed fist and hammered three slow times on the huge, rusting, corrugated metal doors of the warehouse. It was old and decrepit, that much was certain and obvious from the sky. Its purpose once upon a time, less certain, and even the long white sign above the door he tried to read as he approached was in a pretty bad state. Missing letters here, half-letters there. Whatever the structure housed once upon a time had fallen to the march of history.

The metallic scraping sound jarred him from his thoughts, and he looked up from the hard, cold-bitten ground into a pair of dubious-looking eyes peering through an open hatch in the door. Which wasn't a hatch per se, more like a hatchet job of cutting a square into the metal and fixing a sheet of something to slide across.

The eyes narrowed, and the voice was gruff and standoffish. "What you want?"

Ordinarily, it would have been a perfect time for snark. "Soap," Jack said.

Or not.

The hazel eyes studied him for a few moments more. Jack began to wonder if he was getting the _potential-lawman_ once-over. That, or if he'd even turned up at the right place. Of course, the presence of someone in an abandoned warehouse wasn't exactly typical, but hey.

"Yeah, alright. You can come in."

The hatch slid shut with a such a piercing scrape that Jack winced and shivered, whilst trying to ignore the weird tingles in his teeth and the throbbing pain in his ears. The sound was bad enough, but did he have to yank the hatch closed?

The right door slid aside with a low, hollow rumble that did little to assuage his aural discomfort. Inside, the warehouse was empty and dark, lit only by a few pitifully weak free-standing torches along the rightmost wall. The air was cold and stale, mixed with the scent of something Jack couldn't identify. Possibly sweat. Mildew, maybe.

Or it could be the door guard's body odour. He sniffed as he walked in - yep, definitely the guard's delightful scent. Jack wondered if the guy even knew what water looked like. The huge door clunked shut behind him, causing him to involuntarily turn his head toward it just as the guard opened his mouth to speak - his breath was _worse._

'Soap' as the password. Hilarious.

"Follow the lights. They'll lead you to the basement."

Anxious not to speak or even breathe, Jack simply nodded and walked off in the assigned direction.

* * *

It was chaos.

As soon as Jack descended into the basement, he was hit with the smell of sweat and blood so thick it was hard to breathe. The sound of dozens of people encircling the only light in the basement, cheering and roaring in delight washed over his ears like a tide, punctuated with the odd grunt, wet thud and crescendo of the crowd's voices every time a hit was presumably landed.

He scanned the crowd, looking for the characteristic hooked nose and skinny frame of someone he knew. People were bouncing and jeering, throwing their hands in the air whilst yelling obscenities and encouragements, so it was tricky.

Not impossible, though. Made vastly easier by the fact that Panik wasn't in the crowd at all, but stood to the far left of the basement where the single ceiling light barely reached, pointing to the fight and talking to a shorter, rounder man with greasy hair in one hell of a middle parting. Jack caught his eye and nodded once. Panik beamed, whispered something to his friend and scurried over.

"Ah, you came! Good. Nice fight tonight. Very satisfying. Grayson versus Murdock. Come, I'll show you."

Panik extended an arm and led him into the crowd, tapping people to move them aside. Jack followed while the combined sonic mess became deafening, until Panik came to a stop at the crowd's front. The sight made Jack raise an eyebrow.

One fighter was tall and wide, moderately built with a beard to rival Father Christmas' - it took but a second for Jack to recognise him as the militia man who chased Panik off earlier in the day. Apparently he stopped being a lawman at night, and wearing shirts for that matter.

The equally topless other was slender, not built for fighting at all, with gaunt cheeks and a relatively toned but slender frame. He looked dazed, bloodied and bruised - it was obvious that he was well out of his league. Looking down, Jack stomach curled at what looked like teeth on the floor amid splatters of crimson.

Jack watched him attempt a haymaker right punch, something his opponent easily sidestepped, causing him to practically fall forward and suffer a vicious kidney punch as a counter. He leaned down and to the left, close to Panik's ear. "What's the rules?" he yelled, barely audible over the noise.

Panik laughed derisively. "Rules? No rules, friend. Win by knockout - no-one cares how. Look," he pointed to the fighters, "Grayson is about to win."

True enough, Jack watched the bigger man pick who he assumed to be Murdock up from the floor by his neck to stand on his feet. Murdock swayed to and fro, barely conscious, his head lolling to one side. Grayson, smirking malevolently, circled his helpless prey like a wolf as he decided just how to strike the final blow.

He elected for the most disrespectful way - standing in front of the clearly defeated man, he simply placed a finger on his chest and pushed. Murdock fell back like a rag doll, impacting the ground with a pitiable thud, completely still.

"Murdock was doomed," Panik said, just as a short man in a white shirt darted out from the other side of the crowd, and dropped to his knees to check Murdock's pulse.

"Why'd he fight? He had no chance," Jack asked. The referee nodded, sticking a thumb in the air and yelling out that he was, somewhat miraculously, still alive. The crowd roared in glee, especially when the referee stood, and held Grayson's arm in the air. " _Ladies and gentlemen, winner by way of knockout, now eight times undefeated champion, Russell 'Bull' Grayson!"_

"He was desperate," Panik shrugged.

"Has he got any family?"

"Yes. Wife and three kids. Needs the money for their clothes and food."

Jack watched as Murdock was dragged off the ring by his feet, and wondered if the poor guy would live through the night. He bit his lip. This kind of thing could raise his profile in the settlement, and could result in him not being able to show his face there anymore. He'd already figured how Grayson fought; speed that belied his size, but a tendency to favour his right and gross overconfidence in his strength. Astrid fought like that - confident that their swings would hit and severely wound, but unable to compensate for the momentum if they missed. Put simply - he would use Grayson's strength against him.

The referee called out, over the loud clamouring of the crowd. "Who's next? Who wants to step into the ring, and challenge the Bull?"

Grayson spread his arms and swaggered around the ring, encouraging whoever his next opponent would be. An irritatingly cocky _come-at-me_ stance, and for a moment Jack figured he was feeling exactly like Snow Queen did on the _Star's_ deck, in the face of snarky comebacks and insults - a strong desire to beat that smirk off his face.

"Is there no-one who's strong enough?"

"I will," Jack called out. The room went completely silent, and dozens of pairs of eyes all looked in his direction, including those belonging to Grayson whose eyebrows rose in recognition. Performance anxiety would have been order of the night, had his emotions not reached an uneasy truce and formed a strange sort of numb indifference.

"What do I call you, friend?" Grayson called out in a voice that sounded like subtle mockery.

"Winter," Jack said. "You can call me Winter."

Grayson grinned wickedly, and both hands curled an invitation to step into the ring. "Well, come on in...Winter."

Jack pulled off his hooded sweater, leaving one arm in his sleeve while his hand worked to un-velcro the bracer from his arm. "When I win," he said in a low voice to his de facto recruiter, "give my winnings to Murdock. He needs the money more than I do."

" _When_ you win?" Panik chuckled, "You are sure of your chances, yes?"

Jack pulled the sweater over his bracer and wrapped it up, handed it to Panik, and proceeded to pull off his black tank top. Some of the ladies in the crowd seemed to enjoy the view, one's jaw dropped halfway open whilst another pointed to his abs and whispered to her friend - who actually tried to fan herself. Tastefully athletic, and apparently eye candy. They were going to get dinner and a show, he thought with a dash of cockiness. "If these go missing," he warned Panik, "the next opponent I fight will be you."

Panik chuckled, and indicated he was fully aware. Eyes firmly fixed upon Grayson, Jack slowly walked into the ring, putting the referee between them. "Special treat for you folks tonight! The undefeated Bull takes on the newcomer Winter! Place your bets now!"

The crowd underwent a scurry of activity, with most people betting on who he assumed to be Grayson, the hairy, fairly muscular mass of brutish violence. Whilst money changed hands, Grayson and Jack walked toward each other and stopped in the centre of the ring, where the big guy offered a hand. Jack took it, and was immediately yanked up close and personal where the smell was overpowering and nearly forced a cough, just so he could threateningly growl in his ear, "You're outmatched, friend. You saw what happened to the last guy. Why don'tcha save yourself the embarrassment and walk away?"

Jack emitted a low chuckle, and leaned in close to whisper in Grayson's ear.

"I've fought the best warriors in the world, and I'm still standing. Compared to them... _friend?_ You are _nothing._ "

He felt Grayson's grip on his arm tighten to the point that his hands were starting to tingle, and heard the grinding of his teeth. It was true, though. As the referee split them up and assigned them to opposite sides, he remarked on the knowledge that he had taken on two Valkyries and lived to tell the tale.

Compared to Snow Queen? This guy was a chump.

There was an odd feeling of someone's finger tracing across the scar on his back whilst he waited for the referee, whose arm was held out between them, to begin counting down. Probably the woman whose jaw was open. He clicked his neck and shook his arms, deciding to first tire Grayson out with missed swings and spent energy. Maybe a few mocking taunts to _really_ piss him off.

"Three," the referee called out, "Two...one…"

The next thing he saw was a wrathful Grayson charging full speed at him.

* * *

_Time: 21:55_

Focused on trying to jury-rig a system where the safe house's power needs would be supplied by the spare rectangular power cell from the jeep Kozmotis took, Hiccup barely noticed the sharp gust of wind rush over him. His fingers were numb, and it was approaching frostbite-on-spleen temperature as he knelt outside, trying to connect the house's main power cables to the power cell by way of a pair of heavy duty crocodile clamps he found nestled in a toolbox in the barn. Hopefully, it would allow them to utilise the existing lighting rather than dim candlelight.

However, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that the wind had been blowing from the west all day. The gust that had ruffled his hair and snuck up under his clothes was from the southeast.

That, plus the bitter chill in the air meant that Jack had finally returned home. From where, Hiccup didn't know. Maybe it was a patrol. All he knew was that a few hours previously, Jack had opened the barn door, muttered something about needing to think, and shot off into the night sky before the bewildered Hiccup could speak a word.

Sighing, he clipped the improvised power supply to the mains cables using the small protrusions on either side of the rectangular cell, and gave it the visual once over before rising to his feet and making his way to the front door, artificial free-standing torch in his hand. Maybe it was better to come back to it in the morning, he suspected. Something was clearly bugging Jack, and frankly Hiccup could do without losing his fingers to frostbite.

Need anything fixing, building, or just to be told how something works? Hiccup was your guy. When it came to the complications of interpersonal relationships, however, his expertise was limited. Engineering was simpler; A, B and C makes D, or powers X, or they all bundled together into Y to make Z work. People? Not so much.

He knocked the specific sequence and pushed open the door. The torch's white light filled the room with a mild glow, dancing upon the empty plates on the dining table, and creating an eerie sense of emptiness and dead silence in the living room that permeated the air, something that only intensified the unease in his chest.

"Jack?" he called out quietly.

"My room," came the rather gruff reply. He breathed a sigh of relief, and quickly walked over to the second bedroom on the hallway's left, the cold light of the torch guiding him. The door was ajar, and miraculously still attached to the frame in its age. Pushing it open, Hiccup saw Jack bent over his shoulder bag, stuffing some of the spare sets of well-used clothes every Ghost safe house has, along with his mask and goggles. In case of emergency, of course. The need to disappear.

"What's going on?" Hiccup asked softly. "Why are you packing your bag?"

"Anna made it clear she doesn't want me around. I need to clear my head, so I'm going to New Burgess for a few days. You're in charge while I'm gone," Jack answered, busying himself with stuffing his mask and goggles into the bag.

Hiccup blinked, and gave Jack an incredulous frown. Not that he noticed. "Anna said that?"

"Yeah," Jack said, bitterness in his voice. Bitterness, and hurt. "She also said she hated me, that the Purge, Kristoff's death...said all of it was my fault."

"C'mon, boss…" Hiccup sighed, moving further into the room to place the torch on Jack's bed so he could free his hands, "You know she was only lashing out."

"Really?" Jack said as he ducked down under the bed, "I hadn't noticed."

"Dude, c'mon. She's in pain. We lash out at the ones closest to us, right? She's in pain so she's-"

Jack shot up, and glared fiercely in his direction. "Yeah? Well she's not the only one," he snapped.

It was then that Hiccup took a sharp intake of breath, not due to the steely glare he was receiving, but the bruises and cuts adorning Jack's face. One black eye, a split bottom lip, bruised right cheek, swollen right ear and what looked like the remnants of congealed blood under his nose. "What the hell happened to you?!"

Jack said nothing, choosing instead to circle the bed and check the other underside. "Fight club. Needed to punch someone."

"So you went to a _fight club?_ Dude, you could have sparred with me if you needed to let off steam."

Jack scoffed, still crouched as he peered into the shadow cast under the bed. "No offense, Hiccup, but the way I was, I wouldn't have been holding back. Better I did that, than hurt someone else I care about."

Hiccup sighed, and scratched the side of his head while his left hand sat on his hip. "Can't believe I'm about to ask this - did you win? I assume you won."

"Yeah."

"How much?"

"Three thousand credits," Jack said as he pulled out a moderately long roll of fabric from under the bed. "You think I look bad, you should see the other guy. Gave the credits to the one my opponent fought before me. Looked like he needed them."

"How thoughtful," Hiccup drawled with deep sarcasm. "So why are you going to New Burgess?"

"Gonna hide out in the Nether, and keep my ear to the ground. If Unity has any prisoners from the Purge, the propaganda will be all over the Media Stream," Jack said as he circled back around the bed. "Maybe there were survivors."

Hiccup watched him carefully slide the fabric roll into the bag. "Intel gathering. Huh. Is that why you're taking Pippa?"

Jack hesitated for a few seconds, before attempting to cover it by zipping up the bag with a sharp yank. Not long after the rooms had been allocated days ago, whilst dismantling the Uni-Com Hiccup had observed Jack roll his M4-A1 ' _Pippa'_ into a patch of green fabric, just before taking it into the bedroom. "Nothing you need to worry about," he said flatly.

"You're going to kill someone, aren't you?"

Jack said nothing, choosing instead to sling the bag over his left shoulder so the strap rested diagonally across his chest. "Maybe."

It didn't sit well with the rider. Killing rarely did, except in the circumstances involving the test subjects. Jack was acting as rashly as Anna was, only this time his anger and pain was going to be aimed elsewhere. "What about the sixth rule, Jack? I don't think Kristoff or Neve would want you to do this…"

Jack grunted, though the glimmer of a lost, hurt boy in his eyes only intensified. He walked around the bed, and passed Hiccup on his way to the door. "Kristoff is dead. Neve is dead. I don't think they can really say anything."

He was so cold about it. So matter of fact, that it even made Hiccup flinch in surprise, and aroused a sense of disappointment in his heart - their antics with Inferno had made progress in stopping Jack from bottling his emotions, but...Anna had set him back days. Jack was back to being cold and grumpy - and now, a potential assassin. Ghosts rarely conducted assassination operations, thanks to the rescue of newly-bloomed abnormals and stealing of supplies being nigh constant. Rumour had it the last person to assassinate anyone was Kozmotis, and he wasn't even a Ghost at the time.

Worry gripped Hiccup at the idea of Jack going down Kozmotis' path.

He darted to the bed, grabbed the torch and caught Jack up just as he left the room. He couldn't let him do it. "Dude - don't. Give her time, okay? Don't go around shooting people."

Jack continued walking, uninterested.

"It's murder. It's wrong. You might be ignoring the sixth rule, but I can't. Not to mention - what if you get made?"

Still, he said nothing, though Hiccup could hear his breathing get louder, more frustrated. He surged past his superior, putting himself between him and the door. "This is all 'cause of what Anna said, right? The fight club, you leaving the safe house - it's 'cause of that, right?"

Stood at equal height, he saw Jack falter. Blue eyes fell, shoulders slumped. Though he had no idea what went down in Anna's bedroom, aside from her shrieking, he could easily see the effect it had on his friend - glimmering in the torch's light, liquid was beginning to pool in his right eye. "It's not about that, Hiccup," Jack said in a small, weak, cracking voice.

Hiccup hesitated, and it was obvious enough for Jack to take advantage of it by leaning past him to twist open the door; politely nudged in the back as an unsubtle hint to move, Hiccup reluctantly obliged. Jack swept through the door, closely followed by the rider.

Pausing on the veranda, Jack adjusted the strap on his back, and turned to face him. Murmuring, he said, "It's about whether she's right…"

He turned back, and made his way down the three steps to the veranda. Hiccup's mouth opened and closed, while his hands lamely flitted about in the course of trying to find something, _anything_ to say. See - Hiccup Haddock liked to fix things, even before his Bloom Event that saw him randomly repair an old pre-war tractor at three in the morning and adapt it to use the current power cells designed solely for ground-based vehicles. The Ghosts were fractured, splitting apart with cracks between them - and he just wanted to fix it. So he blurted the first thing that came to mind that might, just might make Jack change his mind.

"She didn't feel a thing."

Jack instantly stopped, and there was an audible suck of breath through his nose. Hiccup knew he'd hit the mark - especially when, in the few seconds of silence he left to make sure Jack was sticking around to listen, he saw Jack's form stiffen and tremble all at once. "She - she didn't?" he murmured, so quietly it was almost missed.

"No," Hiccup said, and slowly descended the steps to stand beside his friend. He watched the side of his face carefully, seeing his jaw tense and relax while his Adam's apple rose and fell, staring intently at something in the dark only he could see.

"How do you know?"

"Have you ever seen a fuel cell overload before?"said Hiccup. Jack shook his head. "Neither had I, until that night. It was beautiful. Sphere of light, like someone had made a brand new star right in front of me," Hiccup said, and then his voice took on a wistful quality, "the brightest star in the blackest night."

Jack had barely moved. "One second she was there, the next she was gone. It was _that_ quick. She didn't feel a thing. Jack," he paused to move around in front of him, force him to look and understand, "Neve sacrificed herself so we could go on. Is this really how you want to honour her memory?"

For a moment, it looked like Hiccup had gotten through to him. Jack was unparalleled at building up walls around himself, not needing physical ones to shut the world out. He saw Jack's mouth part as he forced down a swallow, yet still he looked everywhere else but where he needed to.

"I have to go."

Without giving him a chance to protest, in the space of a few seconds Jack plucked his staff from his bracer, extended it and took off into the stars, leaving a worried, fearful and frustrated Hiccup behind to wonder whether Neve's sacrifice was in vain.


	33. Moments of Clarity

" **Moments of Clarity"**

_Location: Unknown_

_Date: November 30th, 2073_

_Time: 12:15_

The once-white pillow was so lumpy and coarse it felt like the left side of her face was pressed against sandpaper. Anna barely cared, however; she tightened her embrace around it and cuddled it closer, drawing her knees up for good measure. As if the grief and what she presumed in a moment of earlier clarity to be depression wasn't enough, the nausea that had been with her for days still wasn't giving her a break. She moved her right arm to her stomach, clutched it comfortingly and exhaled through her mouth, hoping the particularly icky bout of sickness would pass soon enough.

She closed her eyes, and tried to distract herself by _losing_ herself in memory, as she had done since their arrival. So much so, in fact, that she was unaware of not only what time it was, but what _day_ it was. The passage of time had no meaning in her world of grief, pain and remembrance, unless it concerned the past.

And that was where her mind was firmly entrenched, because in her mind, he wasn't dead. Not really. As long as she kept remembering every single second they spent together, he was still there. She rolled onto her back, laced her fingers together over her stomach and opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling, figuring that if she stared long enough, her mind would put her on autopilot while it processed everything. She didn't want to eat but had a compulsion to, didn't want to cry anymore but couldn't stop, didn't want the feeling of heaviness on her chest but wrapped it around her like a blanket. Didn't want the silence that filled the house, ever since the muffled conversation and heavy footsteps belonging to Hiccup and Jack last night, yet relished the quiet.

"So, how long are you going to stare at the ceiling?"

Anna frowned, and her head slowly turned to the right, hearing the familiar deep yet velvety voice belonging to only one person, laid identically to her and staring up with amused eyes and half a teasing smirk on his lips, shaggy blonde hair swept to the side.

"I mean - it's kind of nice, you know, as far as ceilings go, but I'm not digging the woodchip effect," Kristoff said. "I'm more of a wood beam, old-fashioned kinda guy."

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "Kristoff?"

He turned to face her, brow raised yet still wearing the smirk. "Who were you expecting, Jiminy Cricket?"

"But... b-but…" she stammered. It truly was him. Each strand of hair was the same, his hazel eyes still twinkled like stars - even his _nose_ was as perfect as she knew. He was _right there,_ right beside her. "... y-you're dead?"

He frowned and patted down his chest. "I am? Nobody told me. Why am I the last to know everything?"

Anna blinked, licked her lips and swallowed. He was there, but it couldn't be real. She screwed her eyes shut, counted to three in her mind, then opened them again. Nope, he was still there. Still watching her.

"You okay there, honey?"

She blinked again and slowly shook her head in disbelief. "I'm going insane. I've thrown up too much, and it's made me go crazy and see my husband."

He rolled onto his side and propped his head up by his left hand. "Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there, Feistypants?" he chuckled.

She watched as he snaked his right hand across the expanse between them, feathering his fingers out and stopping between their heads. Her breathing trembled yet grew deeper, and slowly, inch by inch, her right hand moved toward it, palms up as it closed the distance until, with a sensation that made her heart skip a beat, her fingertips touched his skin. Liquid pooling in her eyes, her fingers completed the union by slipping in between his and clenching fiercely, holding on tight for fear he would disappear if she let go. "It's really you…" she whispered.

"Mmmyeah. Sort of."

She rolled her eyes, although the smile adorning her face was wider than she ever thought possible. "Shut up, you," she said, and shuffled forward so she could rest her cheek on his hand. She closed her eyes and sighed, revelling in the sensation she never thought she would feel again. "You're here with me - I don't know how, and I don't care."

She could hear him wince. "Well... technically I'm not here. I mean, I'm here, but _not_ here."

First it was a sigh of contentment, then it became a sigh of exasperation, and a hint of dread. "Not here?" she lightly groaned, opening her eyes. He was still there, still staring at her - though it wasn't with the adoring, loving expression in amongst the teasing. It felt to her, more like pity. "So you really are a hallucination, then?"

Kristoff quirked his lips and shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe. You could be hallucinating, or I could be - what would Koz call it - a manifestation of your subconscious?"

"Why?"

"Hey, I'm just a figment of your imagination. I don't have the answers," he said. He squeezed her hand. "Bu-ut if I had to guess? I'm here to give you the kick up the ass you need."

Kristoff shuffled toward her, spreading his arms. Instinctively, like a moth to a flame, she wriggled toward him and buried her face in his chest, resting her hand on his right shoulder while the other was tucked under her body. She felt his strong yet supremely gentle arms wrap themselves around her like a comforting embrace, and as she closed her eyes, she let out a contented but tremulous sigh. "What if I don't want a kick up the ass?"

His chest shuddered as he emitted a low chuckle, and she felt him rest his chin in the top of her head. "Tough, feistypants. You're getting one whether you like it or not," he said, as his fingers stroked her hair, soft as the kiss of a feather. It was like nothing she'd ever dreamed she'd feel again, yet was so familiar she melted into his embrace, heart soaring yet beating with a hollow ache.

"Why couldn't you really be here with me?" she whispered.

He kissed her head. "Because that's just how it goes, honey. We knew this might happen. One of us might not see the next sunrise. As it turned out, that was me. You even said as much on our wedding night."

She clenched the hand on his shoulder into a fist, in the process snaring part of his T-shirt. "And it all came true. All of it. Three hundred years without you."

"Yeah," he whispered, "maybe it did. But that's no reason to shut everyone out - you need to get back into the world."

"The world took you from me."

"The world takes things from everyone, sweetheart. The world doesn't care if you're good, bad, old or young. It takes, but it also gives - and it gave you something. So why lock yourself away like a princess in a tower? That's not my Anna. My Anna would kick down the door," he said, stroking her lower spine. She let out another soft sigh. He - or if he was her subconscious, _she_ \- was right, and she knew it. But there was a difference between knowing and believing.

"It's safe here," she whispered. "No-one can hurt me, no-one can be taken from me if I'm here."

"Sweetheart, open your eyes and listen," he said. She felt him pull away slightly, enough for her to still touch him yet see his face when, reluctantly, she obliged and gazed deeply into the concerned hazel eyes of her soul mate.

He stroked the side of her face, gentle like the kiss of a feather. "This isn't safe. It _feels_ like it is, but it's not. It's slow, poisonous, and it will destroy everything left you love. You know what I mean - you felt the same thing when Elsa shut you out. You've got to move on, honey, because there are people on the other side of that door who need you. Jack needs you - and you need him too."

Her hand went up to hold his hand against her cheek. Screwing her eyes shut, she melted into the sensation of his calloused fingers against her soft skin. "I know," she whispered, "I... I don't want to forget you."

His chuckle was reassuring, but amused. "You'd have to try very hard to forget me, Anna."

"I hope you're right."

"I am - because I'm you," he said. Anna's left eyebrow tingled with the sensation of being stroked over and over again, something he did that _always_ soothed her. "Subconscious, remember? So get out there, hold your head high, and make the world remember your name and everything you stand for. Help your friends move on, and you'll move on too."

She nodded, slowly and gently. "Okay."

A pleased hum escaped his throat, and she felt the soft buzz of his lips kissing her forehead. He murmured, "Good. First step - get off your ass, open that door, and find your best friend. You've got some serious damage control to do with Jack."

"Damage... control? Why?" she said, opening her eyes and frowning at him.

Kristoff quirked an eyebrow. "Don't you remember the fight?"

"I... I can't remember last night at all. What happened?"

"Well, I'm not surprised. You were pretty blind with grief, loss, just a pinch of rage and a little bit of panic as a garnish. Maybe some hormone imbalance as a side order."

Blinking, Anna gave him a blank look while she racked her brain for answers. Shadows of images, distorted sounds and faint emotions danced around the edge of her recollection, just out of reach. Worry had set in and intensified since Kristoff mentioned 'damage control' and 'Jack', and her inability to recall simple details was infuriating. She looked away, brows knitted together in deep thought.

Kristoff must have sensed her worry. Sighing, he said, "Honey - you told him you blamed him for my death-"

Shocked, Anna's eyes widened, and a sharp gasp tore through her throat. She shot up in bed, supporting herself with one curled arm, but holding Kristoff's hand against her heart with the other, and stared in disbelief at him. "What?! But I-" she exclaimed... but Kristoff wasn't finished.

"-and the Purge. You said it was his fault Neve died," he said, wincing.

Her bewilderment intensified, "It wasn't! I would never say... oh," until, with a slackening of the face and droop of the shoulders, her lame grasps for the memories floating just out of her fingertips finally caught paydirt.

And what she saw, what she heard... what she _felt..._ wasn't pretty. She screwed her eyes shut, head slumping down as the guilt blossomed in her heart and flooded her system like a lead weight.

"You remember now?"

His face. His wounded, despondent face, etched in her mind's eye like a stone carving.

"Yeah. Everything." She grimaced as though in physical pain and wiped a hand down her face. "God, what have I done? I told him I hated him. I told him I never wanted to see him again! It's not true... but he's so thin-skinned around me! He's gonna think I meant it all... I was just out of my mind..."

She drew her hand back up over her face and slid the fingers in her hair, where they tangled in flyaway strands and a loose, ill-tended-to braided hair bun. It felt like a mix between her usual bed hair, and her on-duty hairstyle. Meaning, she was as much of a mess on the outside as on the inside. Noticing her distress, Kristoff pushed himself up from the bed, a mirror image sans hand-in-hair. He said soothingly, "Hey-hey-hey. I'm sure it'll be fine. He'll understand if you talk to him."

She looked up at him with fearful eyes. "Will he? Kristoff... me... whoever you are, I hurt him bad."

He tilted his head and gave her an expression of gentle sarcasm. "Gee. You think? Look, you're not gonna fix anything if you lay here feeling sorry for yourself."

Anna scratched at her scalp, something she used to do as a child when stressed, but hadn't done so for _years._ Before her nails could draw pain, she felt a hand close itself around hers and hold it firmly. Murmuring, Kristoff continued, "A little self-pity is okay, but sooner or later we all need to get off our asses and do what needs to be done. Jack just inherited a team of people who've lost everything and nearly every _one_ they cared about. He'll need you, now more than ever."

Every word he spoke made sense, and each syllable strengthened her resolve. Inner strength cut through the crippling grief and held back the dark tide of depression like a wall that only grew stronger. She had a goal, something to focus on - and the thick mental fog that covered the way forward receded. In another, more military term - she had an _objective._

She squeezed his hand. Her lips curled between her teeth, and as her gaze focused on the collar of his black T-shirt, she nodded slowly. "You're right... I'm gonna go find him."

Kristoff's smile was audible, with the pride in his voice. " _There's_ my Anna. There's my feistypants."

She closed her eyes and smiled a lipped smile to herself as a solitary tear fell. She loved this man so much. Loved him so that when he left, a part of her was ripped away, never to be filled again. Though her heart ached, it beat for him, and she thanked whatever combination of factors it was that came together to give her a chance to talk to him again.

She drew his hand down to her lips and pressed a loving and affectionate kiss to his palm. "Kristoff?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

She drew the hand to her face and nuzzled her cheek against it. "I will always love you."

Silence greeted her declaration, an empty silence that carried with it her yearning for him to say it back to her. The tingles on her cheek from his simple touch disappeared in an instant, and absence took the place of his hand. She wasn't stupid; she knew what it meant... but if she didn't open her eyes, then she didn't need to believe it. Blindness and wilful ignorance would only go so far, though, so with a herculean effort that pushed past the desire within her to avoid the truth, she opened her eyes.

Kristoff was gone.

She let out a ragged breath through parted lips, and moved the hand that hovered over her cheek to the space on the bed, in the identical state of disarray it was before.

Jolted by a strange burst of energy, as though her mind had reached down into her heart and given it a swift kick up its ass, Anna opened her eyes for the second time and stared at the ceiling. Blinking, the fuzz of being lost in thought receded, and she realised she was still laid exactly as she was before she heard Kristoff's voice. It was true, then. Her mind had put itself on autopilot while it processed everything - or she fell asleep. One of the two, she reckoned.

Either way, it gave her a much needed shift in perspective. Look to the future, not the past. Outside, not within. "Thank you," she murmured.

* * *

_Time: 13:04_

One cold shower later, where despite the chilly waterfall Anna thanked whoever designated that house as a safe house, for having the presence to choose one with a water supply, she felt revitalized and ready to step back into the world. Four days within four walls had left her with a faint sense of agoraphobia, faint enough to be pushed through, but strong enough to make its presence known. She hovered a hand over the doorknob, ready to take the step yet not sure, while the other fiddled with one of her twin braids; her on-duty bun had come a lot looser than she thought, and to be frank she fancied a change, so she elected for the vastly simpler hairstyle.

She exhaled loudly and closed her eyes. Inhaling another breath, she murmured, "Okay, you can do this, you can do this. One, two…" and upon the squeak of " _tree!"_ thanks to a random image of a sycamore in her mind, she twisted the knob, pulled open the door and stepped through.

"Hello?" she called out. There was no answer, not even the slight creaking and shuffling of someone moving about the house. It was as silent as the room she left. "Hello?" she called out again, and just like before, no-one greeted her. Of course, the last time she left the room might have made her friends reluctant to greet her, but she was _different_ now. "Guys? I'm... it's me, Anna. Anybody here?"

And still there was nothing. Vaguely disappointed, her shoulders drooped. "Well, that was anticlimactic," she drawled. Closing the door behind her, she pondered where everyone could be. Maybe the barn? Hiccup had called dibs on it as soon as they arrived, ostensibly for Toothless. If he was anywhere, he'd be there. He could shed light on where Kozmotis and Jack were.

She jerked down her T-shirt and adjusted the belt of her combat pants, took a quick encouraging breath and made her way to the front door. As she opened it, she was greeted with a gentle gust of cold air that caressed her exposed skin, hitching her breath and sending a shiver down her body. She could never get used to that, after being able literally to raise the temperature of any room she was in, so any breeze that was vaguely cold felt like an arctic gust.

Suppressing another shiver, she closed the front door behind her and swiftly strode to the barn. The outside air was cold and crisp, a typical November chill but not as harsh on her skin as it was in the Atlantic, and her breaths were visible wisps of vapor. The ground felt hard even under her combat boots, and what natural life there was that survived the Third War had surrendered to the frigid march of winter. It aroused a sensation of heaviness in her heart, since not only was winter Jack's favourite season, but Elsa's too. She could still remember the days when the upper level of New Burgess was covered in a wintry blanket of snow, and the many happy hours spent building snowmen with her beloved sister. She missed those days.

She closed her eyes and shook the thoughts right out of her head. Those times were gone. Ancient history. She was no longer the Anna who squealed with joy and saw the light in everything, but the Anna who was hardened by months of combat training, years of death and violence, and losing those she held dear.

And her sister, the Valkyrie, responsible. Kozmotis once said the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. She never truly believed it until the Purge, and she had no doubt the lion's share of her confused rage was from trying to figure out what her feelings about Elsa were. Did she still love her as she once did, or did her new widowhood and the sight of her home engulfed in flames irreparably destroy the sibling bond commonly believed unbreakable? She didn't know.

As she approached, noticing how the huge red doors were slightly ajar, she heard Hiccup's inimitable tones carried through the air, ranting and grumbling about something she couldn't quite hear - though it became much clearer when she hovered by the door. It helped to push away the heartache for the time being; Hiccup's soliloquies of exasperation were a constant source of humour and a thing of beauty.

"You don't like chicken anymore? What do you mean, you don't like chicken anymore?" Hiccup groaned.

Something yowled and warbled back - Toothless sounded mildly annoyed.

"I don't get you sometimes. Years on a boat where you ate nothing but fish, but three days eating chicken and suddenly you don't like it? You know, you're being as much a pain in the ass as Jack."

Anna stiffened slightly. Pain in the ass, huh? That was Jack all over - maybe he was better now.

"Listen to me - I'm having a conversation with a dragon. Why is that, I wonder? Oh, yeah - I know! No-one else to talk to."

Toothless let out a series of grunts that sounded suspiciously like mocking laughter until they abruptly halted. In fact, all sound within the barn ceased, and Anna felt a strange sensation of being caught eavesdropping.

A sensation thus confirmed when Hiccup called out, "Whoever's there, you might as well stop hiding. Toothless can smell you."

Anna dropped her head, and the left side of her lips curled up in a moderately embarrassed smile as she giggled under her breath. She should've known better than to eavesdrop a room in which lived a creature who had a superior sense of smell. She imperceptibly shook her head at her silliness and then reached her hand to the handle and pulled it across. Poking her head around the corner, she said, "And here I was, thinking I was clean."

Hiccup's face lit up, and Toothless' eyes widened to go spectacularly with his goofy, gummy grin. "Anna!"

"The one and only," she said, smiling self-consciously as she slipped through the gap between the doors.

Hiccup looked surprised, especially in how he was stumbling over his words. "You... you-you, you're out of the room! You look great! I mean, you always look great but, you know, it's nice to see... Toothless, down!" There he went, waving those arms again - especially when the spirited creature bounded forward and practically nudged her to the floor with his head. Mercifully he forgot to barrage her with licks - her body heat had only just finished drying off the water on her skin, and she had never tested whether dragon saliva evaporated at the same temperature or not.

"Awww, I missed you too, big guy!" she said, reaching down to scratch under his jawline. Toothless' eyes instantly rolled to the back of his head while his left hind leg scratched uselessly into the air, until all four limbs gave way and dropped him to the floor with a heavy thud. Giggling, she asked him, "How are you?"

Hiccup blinked and lightly shook himself as though witnessing a bewildering event. "Good! Well, considering all that's happened. How about you, you doing okay?"

Anna slipped her hands into her pockets, shrugging lightly and a little awkwardly, and gave him a ' _meh, you know'_ quirk of the left side of her face. "I'm good. Better than I was. Let's just say I got a verbal ass-kicking."

"Oh?" Hiccup's brows rose. "From who?"

Anna shuffled on the spot. "Myself, really. Look - my bad, about... you know…"

"Scream-time from Shouty McShouterson? Don't worry about it," Hiccup said, waving dismissively. "It's already forgotten."

Anna narrowed one eye whilst watching him curiously; obviously it _hadn't_ been forgotten.

"Well," he said, pausing to clear his throat and scratch the back of his head, "I think I speak for everyone here - and by _that_ I mean everyone but Mr Useless, Sleeping-Reptile down there," he gestured irritably at Toothless, whose tongue was lolling adorably from the corner of his mouth, "when I say it's good to have you back. Having to heat the water up myself so I can wash my clothes was getting boring."

Anna rose a single eyebrow, but couldn't help the wry smile at Hiccup's sass. "Oh, so that's how it is? You only miss me for my powers?" When Hiccup quirked his lips and looked innocently at the ceiling as if to say ' _we-e-e-e-ll'_ she chuckled.

Whatever good humour there was in the barn seemed to drain swiftly away, not helped by Hiccup's awkwardness radiating from him as his eyes glanced down to the floor, and the silence that followed. She knew he could naturally be that discomforted when he wanted to be, but it felt like something was off. She got straight to the point. "So, where's Jack? I didn't see him in the house."

"Oh, he's around," Hiccup said far too nonchalantly, with a rather exaggerated shrug thrown in. "Hey, did I show you Inferno? It's around here somewhere…"

Anna frowned in bemusement. "Uh, no. Maybe another time. What do you mean, 'around'?"

"Around. Wait, while you're here," he blurted, holding up a finger as though the gesture would keep anyone rooted to the spot, while he turned and looked behind him. Anna stood, mildly bemused, while Hiccup's head swivelled and craned left and right like a particularly absent-minded owl. "I finished your cloak for Sunday," he explained, just before uttering a triumphant " _aha!"_ and diving behind a stack of wooden crates to his right. "Got it," he said as he straightened up, both hands clutching a long, worn, ancient-looking black cloak. It had lost most of its colour thanks to sun damage and the passage of time, but it still looked serviceable. "Here, let me put it on."

Anna stood still as Hiccup shook the cloak and swung it around her shoulders, tying it delicately around her collarbone. She barely felt the weight of it and only knew of its presence thanks to the slightly scratchy sensation from the old cotton on her arms. Not to mention the musty scent that wrinkled her nose.

"How's that feel?" he asked. As she drew the cloak closer around her, she looked up into his expectant and hopeful face.

"Nice, it's, uh, nice. Thank you." She offered him a faint but grateful smile.

Hiccup let loose a sigh that sounded like ' _phew'._ "Great. Looks cool, too."

He untied the cloak from around her, adding that he would see to the musty smell, and promised to have it clean before the funeral as he stashed it where it was previously hidden. Not that Anna minded; behind the emotional exhaustion she was supremely grateful for his thoughtfulness. "That's-that's good." She took a breath and persisted. "Hiccup, you gonna answer my question any time soon?"

His face paled a noticeable shade, a few seconds before attempting valiantly to change the subject. Of course, his high voice and apprehensive cadence was doing him no favours in the honesty department. "Almost forgot - I made something-" he began with a rapid rhythm as he turned his back to her, but Anna had enough. She folded her arms, looked as stern as she could in his direction, and uttered one word.

" _Hiccup."_

Reaching down to something on the table, Hiccup froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a hover-car.

She enunciated each word, intent on making sure he couldn't dodge the question. "Where. Is. Jack?"

By that point, the meteoric drop in atmosphere - and the rise in temperature - had stirred Toothless from his goofy, induced slumber, and prompted him to sit on his hind legs like a cat and glance worriedly between them. Hiccup's shoulders slumped, along with his head. Anna heard an audible exhalation of breath, something dangerously close to a resigned sigh, and then watched as he turned to look at her and said, "He left."

Anna mildly frowned - she wasn't sure why Hiccup was being so fretful about it. "Okay," she said with faint confusion, "did he leave to patrol, or something? When will he be back?"

Hiccup closed his eyes and shook his head. Opening them, he said, "No, Anna - you're not getting it. He left the _zone_. He went to New Burgess."

Her arms immediately unfolded themselves, and she gaped blankly. She stared at him in complete surprise. "What?! Why? When?"

"Last night. He said he wanted to keep an eye on the Media Stream in case there were survivors of the Purge, but…" he trailed off as the awkwardness and uncertainty came back full-force.

"... but?" Anna prompted him, but there was an itch in the back of her mind that hinted she might not have wanted to know.

He winced and shot a pleading look at Toothless. The itch only grew. "I'm not sure if I should-"

Anna stepped forward. She would not let it drop, and he had to know that. "Hiccup, please, tell me what's going on. I need to know."

Hiccup's eyes closed once more, and he let slip another sigh of resignation. "You and he... you had a big fight. I mean, you've had arguments before, but this was... something else."

Anna screwed her eyes shut and grimaced as though she was in physical pain. Which, thanks to the feeling of shame being so sharp it hurt, she was. "Ah... you heard about that…" she murmured.

Quirking his lips to the side, Hiccup rose his brow, rested one hand on his hip whilst scratching the side of his head with the other, and looked rather intently at Toothless' tail. "Yeah - it wasn't pretty."

Anna's hands wrung themselves in an effort to distract herself from scratching into her scalp. She frowned and relaxed, chewing her lips. Even though he would never do such a thing, Anna still felt like Hiccup was judging her for her behaviour. She wasn't surprised and didn't blame him. She was already judging the hell out of herself, feeling like a horrible person and friend. She looked away, her mind racing over the possibilities... some of them not exactly good.

It was about to get worse.

"Do you really hate him?" Hiccup asked, watching her out of the corner of his eye like he was wary of her. Around the same time, Anna caught a glimpse in her peripheral vision of Toothless' head turning toward the barn door. "Do you honestly blame him for the Purge?"

"No!" she whispered. "No, no. God, no. I wish I'd never said it - I was... out of my mind."

Hiccup threw a hand into the air, then rested it on his hip. "Well, he thinks you do - and he already blames himself. I figured that was why he went to the fight club-"

Anna's discomfort fell away, and was replaced by wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock as she stared unblinkingly at him. "Fight club?!" she repeated incredulously. When Hiccup nodded, her eyes rolled into her head as she ran her hands into her hair, pacing back and forth. "Oh God," she said, wiping her hands down her face, "I need to make this right. I need to talk to him." Ceasing her pacing, she walked right up to Hiccup and asked, "When will he be back?"

"He said he'd be back in time for the funeral - but he checked in this morning at nine. My guess is, he's gonna stick to the call-in protocols. Two check-ins a day, radio silence between each one."

Anna pressed her hands together and rested her lips against the touching index fingers. Gently, she nodded to herself. It was a good thing; Jack was letting them know he was fine, and it meant she still had a chance. "Okay, so his next one will be at three. Okay. I can fix this," she said, feeling a long-missed positivity swell within her heart.

"Anna, I'm sure it'll be okay," Hiccup said as soothingly as possible.

She looked up into his eyes and couldn't help but start to believe him. Hiccup was always an optimistic guy; choosing to see the best in humanity rather than the worst. Kristoff once remarked that it was precisely why he was a part of the team; his moral compass kept them on the straight and narrow. If Hiccup didn't feel something was morally right, he wasn't afraid to let them know. "I hope so, Hic. I really do. I just hope I haven't ruined our friendship."

"For God's sake. I leave you for, what, a few days? And the sodding team falls apart."

Anna gasped and whirled around. Her eyes rested upon the slender, toned Kozmotis, arms folded, casually leaning with his shoulder on one of the wooden support pillars near the door and regarding them exasperatedly. She never thought she'd be relieved to hear that disinterested and world-weary voice again.

There was one thing that took her aback though her body language failed to display it - Kozmotis had a _beard._ It was only a short beard, little more than a five-day growth, but it made him look older and more rugged. Scarily, it suited him.

"Koz! Are we glad to see you - when did you get back?" Hiccup grinned.

"About five minutes ago. What happened?"

"Long story short - Jack's not grieving, I'm second-in-command-"

Anna was stung by that part, but internally checked herself for being envious. Hiccup must have noticed the implication, whether it be by the rise of Kozmotis' eyebrows or the quiet catch of her breath, as he hastily amended, "-temporarily, until Anna's ready. Jack and Anna had a big summer blow-out, so he went to New Burgess to cool off and watch out for news."

Kozmotis snorted. He looked borderline unimpressed. "Is that all?"

"Pretty much."

Kozmotis uttered a ' _hm'_ as he pushed himself from the pillar and scratched the side of his tilted head with his index finger. "I only ask, because I heard something curious when I stopped in the nearby settlement for a drink. Apparently, the head of the local militia had been put in the hospital last night." He paused briefly to regard them both with an expectant expression. "Shattered jaw, several broken ribs, a broken elbow, fractured knee-cap and... a stubbed toe."

Hiccup cleared his throat far too loudly and spoke far too rapidly if he was intending to sound nonchalant. Casting him a glance, Anna had to fight _hard_ to suppress a giggle when she saw how his hand had found its way to the nape of his neck while his face wore the _worst_ attempt at casual surprise in history. "Really? Wow - that's unfortunate and _completely_ unforeseen."

"Yes," Kozmotis said, stepping forward a few paces. "Interestingly, he was put there by a man with white hair."

"Whoa - that is _so_ uncanny."

"Mm-hm." Kozmotis tilted his head, and the disinterested expression gave way to wry amusement. "You two wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Nope!" Hiccup blurted, resting his hands on his hips. "Not a thing. News to me. Sorry... what was that, Toothless?" He made a horribly overacted show of listening intently to Toothless, who looked back at him with one eye narrowed as though he'd gone insane. "You want to go on patrol? Good idea - let's go!"

He hurried the comparatively larger dragon with a beckoning gesture bordering on the frantic. Toothless, though it was clear he would much rather stay in the barn, rolled his eyes and snorted as he stood to trot alongside his friend, an aura of sulking following him. Anna had never seen him exit a room so fast. Mentally cursing him for leaving her alone, she quirked her lips to one side and tried to interest herself with the wooden ceiling, sensing Kozmotis' eyes burning down into her.

"Would you mind accompanying me to the house, Anna?" he asked. "I haven't seen my room yet, and I'd like to know if I will have to speak to the management or not."

Having delivered it with a spectacularly deadpan tone, Anna couldn't help but burst into quiet giggles. "Sure," she said, and as he turned toward the door she caught up to walk side by side. "So, when did you get back?"

Her attempt to intercept Kozmotis' eventual line of questioning at the pass failed miserably when he answered, "I believe it was ' _do you really hate him'_ and ' _do you honestly blame him for the Purge'_."

Anna grimaced and hissed " _shit"_ under her breath. She had already received a lecture from her own subconscious and mercifully dodged one from Hiccup. She didn't need one from her hand-to-hand combat mentor, especially when he could be as tactful as a runaway hover train. She already felt guilty and small.

"Anna."

She looked at him through the upper corner of her vision and frowned the way a child would when they were about to say something that would get them in trouble. ' _Mom, I kinda did something naughty…'_

"Tell me what happened. The unabridged version, please."

She sighed through her nose. There was no way she would escape Kozmotis' brutal hammer of truth. Casting her mind back to the night they arrived, she began a long explanation, relaying everything from the second she burst through the bedroom door to berate Jack and Hiccup, the one-sided argument, and everything she'd learned from Hiccup. She even included Kristoff's ass kicking.

When she had finished, she was wringing her hands to the point they were hurting, and noticed with no small amount of embarrassment she had led Kozmotis on a circuit of the house, such was the length of her story. Kozmotis was silent, thoughtful, his hands behind his back as he carefully studied her - and the beard didn't help the sensation like she was back in the principal's office all over again.

When he spoke, as usual he pulled no punches. "For someone as intelligent as you, Anna, that was a stupid way to behave."

She winced, and sighed - though there was a defensive tone that slipped out, derived from a faint need to point out, "I know! I know, I was a mess, and I shouldn't have taken it out on him, I know that. I was just-"

"Grieving?" Kozmotis astutely finished. "We all are, Anna, but that's no reason to burn bridges."

"I wasn't trying to!"

Kozmotis' expression was matter-of-fact, equal to his chosen words - which were remarkably tactful. "No, you weren't, but you did a good job regardless. We all understand your pain, Anna. In one night, you lost a maternal figure, a husband, your high opinion of your sister, countless friends, your _home,_ and now you've potentially alienated your best and closest friend. But you are not the only one - Jack lost his surrogate mother, and every single item of history I collected over the years, everything that remains of the world before Unity is now at the bottom of the Atlantic. Unity wiped decades of history in one night. Again. The only person who seems to be coping well is Hiccup."

"I dunno." She shrugged awkwardly, "You seem to be taking it well."

His golden eyes came back down to fix themselves on hers, and she found herself rooted by his gaze. "Don't let my demeanour fool you, Anna. If a Valkyrie was to come here, I would think nothing of gutting her like a fish and leaving her to bleed to death."

She knew Kozmotis was telling the truth - after all, he valued honesty and straightforwardness over anything else. In her heart, she prayed Elsa was not stupid enough to try and find her. She was already conflicted enough; she didn't need the worry of Kozmotis killing her sister weighing on her mind.

* * *

_Time: 2:55_

To an outsider, if Kozmotis said that Emily Jane was in pieces all over the table, they would assume one of two things. The first being she was wailing like a banshee on top of a dining table, overdramatically throwing her arms into the air as tears streamed down her face, lamenting everything from a lost love to the dismal final season of _Two Lower City Girls._ The second - Kozmotis had hacked someone called Emily Jane apart and was doing something to the body parts they didn't want to think about. Both assumptions would be wide of the mark.

What was once his personal HK G36 'Emily Jane' lay strewn across the dining table, having been disassembled into her constituent parts, perfectly placed with equal distance to each other. From the recoil spring guide rod to the empty magazine with its bullets placed vertically in a flawless line, the hand guard to the firing pin, what would have been controlled chaos with Hiccup's P90 and outright bedlam for Jack's M4-A1, was an oasis of order and borderline painstakingly-conducted neatness for Kozmotis. After all - a rifle was made of over a dozen important parts, and if care and attention was not taken when cleaning, he reckoned there was no point doing it and he might as well just let it jam on him in a firefight.

Sat on the least rickety chair, Kozmotis peered down the barrel, scrutinising it closely for any nicks, dings or imperfections that would alter the trajectory of the bullets, and to see if he had cleaned it correctly. With no rifle cleaning kit to speak of, he had to make do with a can of WD-40 from the kitchen and a nylon brush pipe cleaner, as well as a torn piece of cotton from his bedsheet - so whether Emily would give him the middle finger and stubbornly refuse to fire was anyone's guess. Still, it wasn't like he was unarmed in other respects. Uttering a satisfied _hm,_ he set it back down in the middle of the table - perfectly placed, of course - and picked up the handgrip so he could set to work on it with a sort-of-clean cloth.

He looked up just as Anna completed her fiftieth pace across the living room. She was muttering something he couldn't quite catch under her breath; for all he could hear, she could be reciting the recipe for chocolate brownies or the dialogue to her favourite movie. More than likely she was rehearsing what she would say to Jack, and as the time closed in on three in the afternoon, her anxiety had only grown. It was getting to where he briefly considered shooting her with his stun pistol for some peace and quiet.

Hiccup was an oasis of calm by comparison. With a book resting snugly over his eyes - something that annoyed Kozmotis more than he cared to admit. Books are to be read, not to act as blindfolds - he was laid on the faded, heavily worn and surprisingly stable sofa, with his fingers laced together over his chest and his ankles crossed, snoring loudly. Had it not been for Toothless standing guard in the nearby barn thanks to a bet he had lost over whether they would see a pair of fornicating squirrels, Kozmotis would have thrown the book at him for being complacent.

The atmosphere was mostly silent, apart from Anna's muttering and Hiccup's snoring, and despite the underlying tension radiating from the strawberry blonde, Kozmotis welcomed the silence. It allowed him to think and process, especially when engaged in a task he could do with little conscious thought. Peculiarities like why Kristoff named Jack as his second-in-command, when in his humble opinion Jack was more of a follower than a leader. Sure, he could direct the team when the chips were down, but the manner of his ascension was one hell of a baptism of fire, and if he had to be honest, Kozmotis had his doubts whether Jack was up to the task. Good friend? Definitely. Good soldier? Obviously. Good leader? Unclear.

It was when he put down the handgrip and picked up the handguard that sudden movement from Anna's direction caught his eye. She halted in the middle of her fifty-first pace, eyes wide. Her left hand shot up to her mouth while her right clutched her stomach, and as she hissed, "No, not now!" there was a retching sound to go with her body practically doubling over. Puzzled, Kozmotis watched as she turned on a dime and ran to her bedroom, the sound of something small clattering to the floor almost drowned out by the thudding of her footsteps. Having failed to shut the door behind her, he was treated to the sound of her throwing up, and curled his lip.

It sparked an idea in his head, however. A niggling thought that popped up, crying to be fed with answers. Regarding the door with a slightly narrow-eyed gaze, he said quietly, "Hiccup."

Greeted by nothing but a louder snore, he tried again. "Hiccup."

The rider shuffled in his sleep and murmured " _please don't make me drink yaknog…"._ Rolling his eyes, Kozmotis sighed in frustration, picked up the empty magazine and threw it with a little too much force at him. It bounced off the book with a gloriously satisfying thump and clattered to the floor.

Hiccup bolted upright like someone had shoved an electric cable where cables should _never_ be shoved, sending the book flying across the sofa to land in front of the doorway to the hall. "I'm awake, I'm awake!" he drowsily called out, blinking his wide eyes to bring the world back to him.

"Clearly, you are not," Kozmotis said. "Though if you don't mind, could you give my magazine back?"

Hiccup frowned vacantly at him, swinging his legs to the floor. Kozmotis caught a glimpse of his cybernetic foot, a marvel of Unity medical engineering comprised of tiny pistons, hypoallergenic steel plates and electrical signals sent by implants that converted the commands from his central nervous system. If one listened closely enough, they could hear the soft whirr of his toes moving. "Magazine?" he said drowsily, before following Kozmotis' pointed gaze to the floor at his right. "Oh, right."

He rubbed at his face with both hands before bending over to pick the object up, but cocked his head to the side. Evidently he was waking up and pennies were starting to drop, especially when he asked, "Wait - why _is_ this over here?"

"I threw it at you," Kozmotis answered casually.

Hiccup looked at him like he was out of his mind. "Why, why-why would you do that?"

"Because I wanted to ask you a question," Kozmotis answered as he began to wipe down the handguard. "How long has Anna been throwing up like that?"

Hiccup frowned with mild puzzlement. Clearing his throat, he rose to his feet and somewhat clumsily made his way to the table. "Um, pretty much since we got here. Why?" he said as he placed the magazine on the other side of the firing pin where it damn well shouldn't go.

Kozmotis ignored his question. "Has she been eating? As in, has she had any strange cravings or anything like that?"

"Sorta," Hiccup said as he pulled up the chair opposite him and sat down, "couple of hours ago she was complaining about how the thought of chocolate made her want to throw up, and that she has this weird craving for pickles."

It was starting to add up. "Mood swings?"

Hiccup winced and scratched the back of his head whilst letting loose a whistle. "Hoo boy. And then some. Why do you ask?"

Kozmotis did away with his prior fixation on neatness by tossing the handguard onto the table where it landed on the main frame with a heavy clank, and covered his face with the palm of his hand whilst groaning loudly and a little too rudely. "Hiccup," he said, after lamenting the apparent loss of brains in the team in his absence, "you can be _such_ an idiot sometimes. Have you all been taking stupid pills while I've been away?"

Hiccup went bright red, more out of indignant surprise than embarrassment. "What d'you mean by that?!"

Giving him a look that danced between deep exasperation and wild incredulity, Kozmotis dropped the bomb. "Anna is pregnant, you moron."

Hiccup's face went slack with surprise, his chin hitting the table. He leaned forward. "What? She-" he said, and then looked off to the side with a furrowed brow whilst his eyes wavered back and forth. Kozmotis wasn't sure whether a penny had dropped, or an entire purse. "That... that actually explains everything."

Shaking his head, Kozmotis' eyes went to heaven whilst he reached over to pick up the handguard. He made a mental note to, if in the unlikely event they were to survive the next few years, enrol Hiccup in refresher lessons. "For someone unrivalled at creating exceptionally complicated machines, Hiccup, you are spectacularly useless at female biology," he said with a bluntly deadpan voice.

Hiccup's brows darted into his hair and back down, and he tilted his head just once to the left. "Yeah, no kidding. That's why I stick to the mechanical."

"God forbid you ever get a girlfriend," Kozmotis murmured as he wiped down the handguard.

Ordinarily, his snark would have not gone unnoticed. He would have either received a snappy comeback, or an offended " _Hey!"_ in response, but no such retorts came his way. In fact, it seemed Hiccup was still coming to terms with the realisation that Anna would be a mother. It was especially miraculous, considering that the Toxin and the Bloom Events were notorious for playing havoc with the reproductive systems of both sexes, and there were many theories as to how. Some believed that the mother's Toxin-infused immune system attacked cells that didn't possess the abnormality gene, a theory reinforced by the knowledge that not everyone was affected when the Toxin spread over the planet during the Third War. Others believed that the Bloom Event screwed with the regularity of a woman's fertility cycle, leading to situations where fertility windows were narrow or non-existent, wholly unpredictable, and due to such extreme irregularity, menstruation constantly caught people by red, messy surprise.

The day the Furies returned with an industrial-sized crate of sanitary towels was a ship-wide cause for celebration.

The day the Furies fell to the Valkyries? Not so much.

Hiccup looked like he wasn't sure whether to be elated or despondent. "Anna's gonna be a mom," he said, a faint smile curling his lips as he gazed off to the side. Elated it was, then. Kozmotis looked up, and for the briefest of moments wished he wasn't so cynical and pessimistic, though he would call it being a realist. Slowly shaking his head, Hiccup flopped back into his chair, only to stiffen bolt upright as his head darted to the right. He frowned, and his right hand shot up to his ear, all under the curious gaze of Kozmotis.

"Frost? Yeah, this is-"

Kozmotis twisted round to face the hallway, wondering if Anna's morning sickness had granted her enough of a reprieve to jump into the radio connection, but as a white dot at the bottom of his vision caught his eye, he realised with a sinking sensation she was unaware. It was her earpiece, dislodged by her abrupt sprint.

"-wait, Streak wants to talk to you," Hiccup said with anxious speed, "just hang on... wait!"

In his agitation Hiccup went as rigid as a board, until his entire body slumped and he flopped back into the chair with visible dejection. "Lost him. He didn't even stop to listen," he said glumly.

Kozmotis was silent as he carefully placed the handguard next to the handgrip, stood up and made his way to Anna's bedroom, stopping once to bend down and pick her earpiece up from the floor. Sighing quietly, he walked on through her door, just as a toilet flush heralded Anna coming out of the bathroom with great urgency, the back of her hand over her mouth. She stopped in her tracks. His face betraying nothing, he opened his hand, and her eyes flicked down to the earpiece sat on his palm.

Her shoulders slumped, and her brow knitted together in a peak. "I missed him, didn't I?"

Kozmotis merely nodded.

She uttered a disappointed sigh, and trudged over to the edge of her bed closest to him, and flopped down on it, arms resting loosely on her knees. Bowing his head slightly, Kozmotis slowly walked over to her nightstand and placed the earpiece on it, before parking himself at her side. Following a long moment of silence, Anna murmured, "It seems so hopeless."

Kozmotis turned to regard her with an expectant expression. She glanced once at him. "The situation, I mean. After what happened... where do we go from here? What's our objective?"

His answer to her somewhat existential-slash-depressing-slash-realistic question comprised two words as he looked away. "Who knows?"

He'd be the first to admit he wasn't superb at the whole ' _support and sympathy'_ thing. He had no clue what it was like to be in love, let alone what it was like to lose someone you love so deeply it hurt. Not to mention leaving behind a small, innocent life. It was tricky for him to empathise at the best of times. He stared awkwardly at different points on the wall ahead of him, unsure of what to say.

There was _one_ question on his mind, however, that had been there ever since she dived off into the bedroom. "Anna, how long have you known you were pregnant?"

There was an audible catch of breath, and in the edge of his vision he saw Anna's head swivel toward him, before dipping slightly as she let slip another sigh, this one of resignation. "Since about the seventh throw-up session," she said.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, but when she flinched as though he was accusing her, he turned toward her and added, "I'm just curious."

She looked up to the ceiling, blinking far more often than would be normal. Liquid pooled in her eyes, and when she spoke after a thick swallow, it was with a voice cracked and low. "Because I didn't want it to be real, and the second I tell someone, it becomes real."

"What's wrong with that?"

"It means," she said, moving a finger to her left eye and intercepting a tear, "I have to face the fact that I'm the first of our kind to conceive in over four years, and because of Unity, because of my-" she stopped, closing her eyes as she visibly checked herself, "-our miracle baby will never get the chance to meet their father."

Kozmotis looked away. Uncharted territory became abandon-all-hope-ye-who-enter-here in terms of relatability. He laced his fingers together with his elbows on his knees and stroked one thumb with the other. He had a few ideas of what to say, things like " _but the baby will still have you"_ and " _we'll be here to support the both of you",_ but they would be nothing but trite words, and pointless sentiment. In his mind, it would annoy her more than anything else.

"Look," she said with spectacular lack of emotion, something wholly unbecoming of her, "I'm gonna go on patrol. I've got a lot to think about."

"Right," Kozmotis said. He rose to his feet while Anna slid off the bed and crouched to retrieve her personal MP5, two spare magazines and her belt with her knives still in their sheaths. She put the MP5 and spare magazines on the bed, and stood up to clip the belt around her waist, yanking on the excess strip to secure it. "Will you be okay on your own?" he asked.

Anna snorted, somewhat bitterly as she slung the strap of the MP5 over her shoulder. "Put it this way, Koz: the way I'm feeling right now, it would be in Unity's best interest to stay out of my patrol path," she said, and as if for emphasis, slammed one of the magazines into the rifle and yanked on the slide. It was a peculiarity to him how the sound of a firearm being loaded and a round being chambered could engender both fear and resolve depending on who was making the sound.

"Listen," she said, though she sounded weary and tired, far removed from the Anna he used to know, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys I was pregnant. I... if I was going to make it real, I kinda wanted Jack to be the first to know. I hope there's no hard feelings."

Kozmotis nodded. He picked up her earpiece from the nightstand and passed it to her. "None whatsoever. He is your closest friend. It's only natural."

Anna offered him the faintest of smiles as she took it, murmured, "Thanks," before turning and walking out of the bedroom as she slipped it into her ear - but, as she stopped in the doorway, she turned her head over her shoulder and asked, "What are you going to do with your beard? Are you going to shave it?"

He shrugged, though one hand involuntarily went up to stroke the coarse bristles on his chin. "I don't know - I might keep it. Makes me look more manly, fills me with the irrational desire to cut down trees, have sex and wrestle bears. You know, manly things," he said with acerbic wit.

The left side of Anna's lips curled up in half a smile as she lightly chuckled, before she turned back and walked out of the bedroom. He heard quiet words being exchanged between her and Hiccup, and then the sound of the front door closing.

For the first time in forever, Kozmotis disliked the silence.

* * *

 

_Date: December 2nd, 2073_

_Time: 15:32_

Though she was secretly relieved Merida and Astrid had since gone home, she was also secretly grateful Rapunzel had asked if she could stay over for a few days, perfectly happy to snooze on the sofa while Elsa slept on the living room floor. It was like one of those sleepovers she used to have when she was a child, back when she had friends and a sister that looked up to her.

Those days were so far away, they felt like part of another lifetime.

Carrying two tall glasses of orange juice, Elsa walked into her living room where, after a morning's hard work at the gym in the other end of the city where the two ladies competed to see who could last longest on the treadmill, Rapunzel dozed on the sofa with her arm over her eyes and one leg dangling over the floor. She lost.

A loud and un-Rapunzel-like snore echoed from the Valkyrie's mouth, and Elsa couldn't help smiling and silently chuckling. If there was a _Tease Rapunzel_ game just like there was for Merida, then Elsa now had plenty of ammunition for an early point lead.

There was a pip from the vicinity of the Uni-Com. Curious, Elsa's smile fell as she turned to look at what was making the sound - which was the Uni-Com itself. She frowned at the words _MATCH FOUND_ as they slowly pulsed in the middle of the screen. "What match?" she murmured to herself.

Rapunzel made a noise that sounded like " _fnyureefnargun"_ in her sleep.

The words on the screen faded away, only to be replaced by a map on the entire right side, with the words _LOWER CITY_ on the bottom left. A red dot pulsed in the centre of the map, roughly near the apartment district.

It was what filled the left side of the screen that made Elsa drop both glasses of juice in dumbfounded surprise, the sound of shattering glass causing Rapunzel to bolt upright and blurt out " _Where's the fire!"_ in shock. On the top left, the words _PROBABILITY, 98%._ In the middle, a man with a blue hooded sweater, his covered head bowed but looking at something under the camera.

At the bottom, Frost's face.

Wide-eyed, Elsa managed to whisper two words.

"He's _here_."


	34. To Kill a Valkyrie

" _I've seen angels fall from blinding heights_

_But you yourself are nothing so divine._

_Just next in line."_

_Chris Cornell, "You Know My Name"_

* * *

 

" **To Kill A Valkyrie"**

_Location: Snowfield House, New Burgess_

_Date: December 2nd, 2073_

_Time: 15:34_

Elsa stood, rapt, as she stared in disbelief. This was out there. She expected the Ghosts to be in the wind, utilising their impressive survival skills to stay out of sight and out of mind. She'd _hoped_ that was the case, after risking her career by informing Hans during the Purge debriefing that there were no signs of them after the _Star's_ destruction, therefore she was certain they perished in the explosion. If Unity was to find out the Ghosts were still alive, there would be a nationwide manhunt - following the quiet execution of her and her team.

Yet, there Frost was, sauntering through the heart of his enemy.

From the direction of the sofa, Rapunzel sleepily asked, "Who's here?"

"Frost," Elsa murmured.

If she had any doubts whether Rapunzel heard, they were instantly dissipated by the abrupt halt of her yawn and her scrambling off the sofa to be at her side. "You're kidding me," she said, gaping at the screen. Elsa slowly shook her head.

"I wish I was."

"Is he _insane?_ " Rapunzel said, incredulous. "Does he even _know_ how much danger he's in?"

It was on the tip of Elsa's tongue to answer that it wasn't the first time Frost had been in the city, however, she kept her mouth shut when she remembered how that encounter ended. "Evidently not - or he doesn't care." She wasn't certain which one was the more likely.

Watching the red dot slowly travel towards Main Street, she felt Rapunzel's eyes burning into her. "So what do we do?" she asked the sixty-four thousand credit question.

As the dot turned right onto Main Street and made its way past the grocery and clothing stores, Elsa tensed rigidly. So wrapped up was she in the potential consequences of Frost's presence in the city, her mind had failed to grasp what it meant. She inhaled sharply, an action that prompted a further inquiry from Rapunzel as to if she was okay, when she felt a surge of realisation - it was an opportunity.

Frost being in the city meant she could find him. No longer to gut him, but to _talk_ \- and still the concept of that felt so alien after three years. She could talk to him, make him understand that she knew the truth, and that they never meant for the Purge to end the way it did. The biggest thing? He was her direct connection to Anna. If she could talk to him, maybe he would be reasonable, and then maybe he could pass on a message.

It was an opportunity too good to pass up, and one she had a suspicion she would never get again.

This concept of hope of which Rapunzel was such a staunch advocate? It felt _good._

"I need you to stay here and watch this screen," Elsa said as she deftly swiped away the three squares on the left-hand side. "Uni-Com," she addressed the device, "activate tracker for lost wrist communicators."

Rapunzel spoke slowly and suspiciously. "Elsa, what are you planning?"

Elsa didn't have time to give her the full run down, so she kept it brief. "I'm going to get changed into Lower City appropriate clothing, and then I'm going to find him. I need you to watch the screen and guide me. You can use the wrist-com tracker to do that, and I'll keep an open com-line."

"Are you serious?" Rapunzel said worriedly, as Elsa turned and left the living room. Following her, she continued, "You remember what you told us about their Rule Four, or Five or whatever?"

"Rule Six," Elsa corrected as she rounded the lowest step and climbed the stairs three at a time, "and, yes, I know the risk, but I'm still going to take it. I have to. The Valkyries have been at war with the Ghosts, and now I have a chance to make peace. If I am to salvage _anything_ between my sister and I, I have to do this."

She paused at the top step, turned around to face Rapunzel and said, "There's an old saying my father lived by: fortune favours the bold."

As she climbed the last step and made for her bedroom, a wave of resolve swept over her at the feeling she was about to find out.

* * *

From the safety of a darkened alley in the Habitation District, with his hood up and the bag containing Pippa slung over his shoulder, Jack once again metaphorically punched himself in the gut and looked up at the wall of the building opposite. In any other day-to-day situation, the screen projected onto the concrete canvas would be of the Unifier constantly spouting propaganda. Calling on his citizens to report sedition. Snuff out Alliance sympathisers. Bring to light the abnormal scum and reject them from society. Upholding the good name of Unity and glorifying the regime with references to their rise during the Third War. How they were the path to freedom and security, whilst his eyes betrayed the amusement that his beloved citizens traded one for the other. That was how Jack saw it.

It was different on the second of December, and what he watched made him sick and filled him with uncontrollable, righteous wrath: the Media Stream was celebrating the Purge. He had lost count of how many times a recording of the _Guardian Star_ being ripped apart had been aired and the cheers that erupted every time. The Unifier proclaiming victory in the Atlantic over the Abnormal Resistance, declaring the citizens to be forever safe from their regime of terror. " _No longer will our great society be threatened by the subhuman abnormal,"_ was a phrase that made it almost impossible for Jack to _not_ punch a wall. _Battle in the Atlantic,_ they called it. Battle. Jack had another word for it: massacre.

The Valkyries, heralded as the spearhead of the Purge.

He forced himself to look away and tried to interest himself in the deserted street as he knew what was coming next: the Valkyries. From the promotional picture he saw months ago, to action shots of them designed to portray them in a heroic light, Unity wasted no time in bombarding the population with their courage. Images of Snow Queen directing the squad, pointing commandingly off-screen with her sword in her other hand. Snow Queen apprehending scouts. Recordings from hand-held holo-cameras that depicted them charging into combat against superior numbers - which Jack thought was a nice, thick slice of bullshit considering he recognised none of the men and women she fought. Their struggle, reduced to actors in raggedy clothes, looking as mean and caricatured as possible. His heart thumped with hot rage. His hand clenched so tightly around the strap of his bag, his nails were in danger of drawing blood.

It sickened him to see that people were taking so much glee in the deaths of over two hundred of his kind, of Eugene and Kristoff. Families of those who had undergone a Bloom Event, though in no danger of being abnormals themselves, were heckled in the street and mocked. Sometimes, they were spat on. Verbally attacked, and often physically, just for being related to an Abbie.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled and exhaled over and over again to calm himself. He was there to keep an eye out for Unity making a song and dance about the capture of Kristoff and Eugene, not plan a shooting spree from the top of an apartment building. He opened his eyes and walked out into the street. Maybe he would see a target worth blowing his cover for.

* * *

_Time: 16:30_

Elsa tapped her foot on the elevator's floor, and fiddled with the hem of her sleeves whilst her hands were buried in the wide pocket of her lilac hooded sweater. Inter-level rides could be tediously sedate at the best of times, but her rising impatience coupled with the nearly forty minutes it took to get to that point led to the descent feeling excruciatingly slow. Did it not know that her window of opportunity could close at any time?

She closed her eyes and shooed away the thought that an elevator was conspiring against her and instead attempted to allay her worries by asking the same question she asked twelve times since she left the house. Raising her wrist communicator to near her mouth, "Where is Frost now?"

Rapunzel's answer was audibly annoyed. " _Where he has been for the past ten minutes. Walking along Main Street, heading to the Entertainment District."_

Elsa winced. "Sorry."

After a good five minutes of tapping a decent rhythm, a dull _bing_ heralded both the opening of the doors and the leap of Elsa's heart into her mouth... right before her stomach hit the floor.

Even though it was only the afternoon, the winter sun coupled with the shadow cast by the Upper Level's support platform had reduced Lower City to a gloomy darkness. Apartment lights blinked into existence one by one, and the street lamps activated to bathe the streets in an ugly artificial yellow light. She nibbled at her lip - the dwindling natural light presented a new dimension of difficulty even with Rapunzel's quasi-eye in the sky help. The Ghosts were at home in the dark, far more comfortable in it than her. If he was in any way aware of her presence, he could effortlessly get the drop on her.

She forced the worry away and swiftly strode out of the lift toward the nearby road where hover-cars lazily travelled to and fro, with the odd yellow cab dotted in amongst the traffic. "Okay, I'm in the Lower City. Talk to me," she said, shooting her other hand into the air to hail one of the passing cabs.

" _He's still heading to the Entertainment District. Looks like he's in no real hurry,"_ Rapunzel replied as the cab pulled up to the sidewalk. It was still moving when Elsa wrenched open the door and dived onto the back seat, throwing directions at the driver before she even closed the door. She prayed his leisurely movement would last the fifteen minute journey.

* * *

_Time: 17:00_

" _He should be right on top of you. Do you have a visual?"_

It took a horribly long elevator journey, and a cab ride where the driver took her insistence for him to move as fast as legally possible a little too literally, and the heightening of her worry when she saw the sheer crowds of people milling about on the sidewalk, but Elsa could say with relief, "I have a visual."

As well she should, considering the amount of times she held on to the inside door handle for grim death when the cab weaved in and out of traffic like he was in a hover-car race. There were a few times when she wondered if, after three years of violent combat, her life would be ended at the hands of a psychopathic driver.

From her place of hiding around the corner of a small holo-bookstore, she watched Frost. With his back to her, he stood outside a children's toy shop and perused the range of cars and soldiers. He picked up one of the Honor Guard dolls and set about testing just how articulable its limbs were. She found it curious how he was so interested in those toys and even was more intrigued by the large bag over his shoulder.

Rapunzel's voice softly emanated from the wrist-com's detachable earpiece receiver. " _Um... I see you're hiding. Why? Don't you want to talk to him?"_

Elsa's gaze darted over the dozens of pedestrians going about their business and thanked her stars that the background noise of Lower City life masked her voice. "I do," she said.

" _Then why don't you go up to him?"_

"I don't want to scare him."

Rapunzel sounded downright bemused, like Elsa just said the weirdest thing ever. " _... you don't want to scare him?"_

Elsa closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, realising just how odd it sounded. "It's too busy around here. If I spook him, he'll disappear in the crowd and I'll never have this chance again."

" _How do you know?"_

Frost replaced the doll - in a position of questionable decency, to her faintest amusement - and unhurriedly moved away. "I would be the same in his position."

Elsa carefully left her hiding place and followed him, taking care to weave between the people walking in the opposite direction. If she bumped into someone, there was every possibility he would notice the resulting scolding, notice _her_ and then flee. Him escaping without at least listening to what she had to say deepened her anxiety, and yet she didn't even know _what_ she would say if the time came.

Frost effortlessly avoided the pedestrian traffic like he was part of the background, flowing in between the warm bodies with grace and skill. She wondered if it was part of Ghost training to hide in plain sight, to be invisible in a crowded place. Her heart thumped in her chest, and she licked her lips to stave off the dryness that arose from breathing only through her mouth. She kept her eyes on the back of his head, something that was easy thanks to him being at least six feet at a guess.

He slowed his pace and turned to peruse the showing list of the holo-theatre, three buildings down from the toy store. Elsa's breath hitched. Ducking her head, she maneuvered herself to hide around the corner of one of the many bars, and peered out through the collection of outside tables and dirty green unopened parasols sat between them. She tried to think about what she would say if, hopefully _when,_ the time came. What would she say? What _could_ she say?

She glanced at the street sign behind and above him, situated just in front of the crossroads ahead. To carry on in the current direction would take them straight to the Nether. To the left was the Work and Education District, and to the right the centre of Lower City. She hoped Frost would head straight on; the Nether was perfect for a hopefully non-violent talk. Desolate and abandoned. Her heart beat at a rhythm of nineteen to the dozen, knowing that everything depended on the next few minutes.

Frost stepped back from the showing list, his gaze lingering on it for a few more seconds as he continued on his way. Elsa didn't realise her breath had been held until she crept out onto the street and mingled with the pedestrian traffic heading in the same direction, and let out a long exhalation through pursed lips. Her eyes remained fixed upon the back of his hooded head as it disappeared and reappeared behind passers-by.

Then, he froze.

Several people behind him were abruptly forced to stop and move around him lest they collide with his back, and she could hear them toss a few irritated insults at him as they passed. His head slowly turned, so with a gasp Elsa darted into the narrow passage to her left between two ancient-looking brown brick shops and pressed herself against the rough wall. She tried to steady her breathing, and for the briefest moment found it odd that after all the battles she took part in, the simple act of following Frost caused so much anxiety.

" _That was close,"_ Rapunzel said.

Elsa frowned, puzzlement working its way among the adrenaline. "How do you know?"

" _I used your program to access the street cameras. For the record, I think green is better for you than lilac."_

Elsa sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, if you can see us - what's he doing now?"

" _He's still looking behind him. Not sure if he knows he's being followed. He might be checking his six just in case. Stay out of sight."_

Elsa scoffed quietly. "Thank you, Captain Obvious," she said. "I intend to do just that."

" _You're welcome, Sergeant Sarcasm,"_ Rapunzel responded in a sing-song voice. " _Any idea what you plan to say to him?"_

Her eyes travelled down to the floor from the corner of the building, where she had been keeping watch in case he doubled back. Her breathing had calmed to a comfortable level, and the adrenaline was dwindling down. "I have no idea," she said.

" _Well you'd better come up with something soon - he's on the move again."_

Elsa's head whirled around the corner. Just as Rapunzel said, Frost was already continuing on his journey. Slinking gracefully out of her hiding place, Elsa joined a group of women, some ashen-skinned thanks to the lack of Vitamin D, and slipped her hands into the sweater's pocket as she watched him through her eyebrows. He drew away from her, and Elsa automatically sped up to match his pace - something that sent a trickle of uncertainty down her chest into her stomach.

"Something's wrong," she said, having to overtake and dodge people in front of her to keep up.

" _Did he spot you?"_

"No. I mean, I don't think so," she said, though she hastily checked the shop fronts as she passed for reflective surfaces. "He's picked up the pace."

" _Maybe he's just hungry?"_ Rapunzel was optimistic and bright as usual though it failed to assuage the worry.

Humming with doubt, Elsa looked away from the windows and back to where Frost was, just as he turned the corner into the Work and Education District and disappeared out of sight. Gasping quietly, Elsa marched onward like she was late for an important date, praying he hadn't disappeared entirely. Just before reaching the crossroads, the double glass doors to the last building opened and spewed out a dozen men and women of various shapes and sizes, chattering amongst themselves as they languidly walked out and toward her, spreading over the sidewalk. Elsa clenched her fists and hissed a curse out loud. Pulling her hands out to guide her, she quickly but clumsily navigated her way between them, bumped and buffeted by a dozen shoulders.

" _We have a problem,"_ Rapunzel said.

"I hadn't noticed," Elsa replied, unable to hold back the snarky grumble.

" _He's gone. He went round the corner, and I can't pick him up on any of the cameras, so the dot's not there. It's like he disappeared into thin air."_

Elsa froze, and her right hand shot up to the earpiece. "What?! Are you sure?"

She didn't wait for an answer though one was given that no attention was paid to. Striding forward, she angled her left shoulder in front of her and barged past the final man, knocking him aside much to his vocal irritation. She brushed aside the insults that followed her as she jogged onward, her heart racing with the fear that her chance had escaped. Praying internally, she rounded the corner to find Frost on the other side of the street.

He was looking _right_ at her.

The world disappeared into the background. Passers-by and cars floated between them in either direction, and the inimitable sounds of afternoon city life seemed to melt into one indiscernible, hazy noise. It was like nothing existed in that moment but the two of them, staring at each other.

"Shit."

His gaze rooted her to the spot. Elsa's breath caught, and her body went as rigid as a board while her mind furiously tried to work out just how the hell Frost knew she was following him. She was careful; she was so certain of it. She made sure to keep a healthy distance between them, and duck out of sight if there was a chance he could spot her. How did he know?

" _What's happening? Elsa, talk to me."_

Then an apartment-sized realisation hit her like a freight train of self-admonition and panic; he knew she was following him because he _felt_ her presence. Just like in the apartment, when he got the drop on _her,_ thanks to some kind of Snow Queen Proximity Warning. He must have known where she was the moment she stepped out of the cab. Her care and secrecy was pointless.

His expression unreadable, but his eyes full of warning, his body shifted slightly as he turned a few degrees to the right. Elsa's legs tensed in response, ready to move at a moment's notice. "Don't do it," she murmured. "Please…"

Frost turned and bolted _._

Elsa shot after him.

Heart racing, she sprinted across the street, oblivious to the hover cars and the angry blaring of their horns. One stopped just in front of her in surprise; fluidly, she leapt into the air and slid her butt across the hood, eyes remaining fixed upon him.

Landing awkwardly, she charged after him. Her legs groaned and griped with every footfall, already aching thanks to the gym session with Rapunzel, but she ignored the pain and pressed on. Frost did away with his prior graceful avoidance; people on their way home from work were roughly pushed aside by him as he flew past them, with some even knocked to the ground with a cry of surprise. Yet, despite it making Elsa's task easier, he was slowly pulling ahead. She knew he was faster than her even without a morning of rigorous exercise, and whatever was in his bag did little to hamper him. A sharp pain shot across the side of her ribs as she sprinted, and her breathing quickened to such a rate her head felt the effects of lightheadedness - but she refused to stop, and pushed herself harder. Heart racing like an _Einherjar_ at top speed, roaring in her ears, she leapt over a fallen man and forced herself onward. She tried to call out for him to stop, but the idea of her mouth doing anything other than shoving oxygen into her lungs wasn't exactly feasible.

" _I can see you both. Holy crap, you're fast."_

Not fast enough, she thought.

Frost took a sharp right, and from a dozen yards away Elsa saw his left hand pull his right sleeve back to reveal that bracer of his. " _He ducked into an alleyway! I lost visual again!"_ Rapunzel yelled through her earpiece. Barging into a woman that was too busy yelling obscenities after Frost, Elsa sharply pushed her aside so as not to lose momentum, and heard the pained help of the woman hitting the ground. Ordinarily she would stop to help, but catching up to him was too important.

Throat burning raw and lungs begging her for mercy, she scraped around the corner and rushed into the alley.

Panic shot through her heart, immediately skidding her to a halt. Frost was nowhere to be seen.

Panting, Elsa's head whipped every which way. With legs that felt like jelly from leaping from a standstill to one of the hardest sprints she had ever done - and Valkyrie fitness training was no picnic by comparison - she staggered on. She checked the shadowed side of the large green metal boxes either side of her where the cleaning and maintenance drones were stored while inactive. Nothing.

The dark alleyway felt ominous and constricting, like the walls were closing in around her. Worse still, there was no sign of him - it was like he had rounded the corner and disappeared into thin air. Elsa bent double with her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath, and her eyes darted to every window, door, nook and cranny in her sight.

"I just," she shouted - or at least attempted to through the panting, "I just want to talk!"

There was a split-second flash of red that _looked_ like it shot down her vision. She looked down at the floor and furrowed her brow as a red dot, bright against the black asphalt, slowly inched its way closer and closer. It travelled onto her shoes and crept up her legs. She straightened up, closely watching the little light traverse its way over her hips, up her abdomen... and stopped straight over her heart.

She took a sharp, shaking breath - laser sight.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, contradicting the drop of her stomach to the floor. Somehow, she knew to look up... and there he was, silhouetted against the huge evening lights fixed to the Upper City's support platform, knelt at the very edge of the apartment building's roof and peering down the scope of a rifle she had never seen before.

Her heart couldn't decide whether to freeze in fear or thump with adrenaline-fuelled anxiety, but as the dot travelled up to rest upon her forehead, bringing with it a faint crimson glow at the corners of her eyes, the knowledge that he had her dead-to-rights was undeniable. One sudden movement and she would be dead.

Slowly, achingly slowly, she spread her hands and moved them up either side of her body. Each passing inch, each second that the trigger was not pulled added hope to the already rigid tension gripping her nerves, and while her gaze remained upon his scope, her hands stopped by her head.

Then she said the only two words her adrenaline-addled mind could conjure under such duress.

"I'm sorry."

Even with the glaring light of the platform bulbs forcing her to squint, she saw his silhouetted head pull back from the scope to look at her. He stared for an uncomfortably long time, rifle still pointed at her but choosing to regard her with his own eyes. Mentally forcing her lungs to calm down and breathe regularly, Elsa made damn sure not to take her eyes off him. If she looked away, she reckoned there was every chance he would take it as insincerity and either take the shot, or fly off. So far, he was doing neither - and that was a _good_ thing.

He moved, and her heart skipped a beat. Standing up, he slung the rifle around his shoulder and bent to pick up a long rod from the roof's surface - ostensibly his staff. Hands still held high, she watched as he stepped to the edge of the roof, and felt her heart launch itself into her throat when he stepped off.

She needn't have been so panicked. A rush of wind that hit her from behind nearly knocked her over and rushed past her, and as he floated a little too quickly to the ground, the updraft of air caused his hooded sweater to ruffle and slip up to his chest, allowing her a rather lengthy glimpse of his toned torso.

Her eyes weren't allowed to linger for too long, much to the faintest disappointment. Frost touched down in a graceful three-point landing, the point of his staff clanging against the ground. As he rose, his free hand fluidly whipped behind him to pull out another weapon she was unfamiliar with, shaped with vague similarity to a stun-pistol but black, and crossed his wrists as he pointed it squarely at her head. In response, she gulped and her body went taut, rooted to the spot by his arresting blue eyes.

" _What did you just say?_ " he said in a hard voice, edged with menace.

Mouth arid as a desert, she bravely attempted to speak. "I'm sorry."

His entire upper body faltered as though it had become too heavy to support, and incredulity swept across his face. "S-sorry?" he scoffed, and his voice became soft with disbelief. "You say that like you got caught with your hands in the cookie jar…"

"I... I don't know what-" she tried to murmur.

His body snapped rigid, and his expression turned hard once more - though edged with anger. "Let me explain what's going on here, Snow Queen. You are a _murderer._ I am justified to _end_ you, and the _only_ reason you are still alive is because of Anna. You're gonna have to come up with something a little better than ' _I'm sorry_ '."

She looked away. "I know. I know it's not enough for what I did," she whispered.

"No, it isn't," he hissed. "but because of your sister, you get ten seconds to tell me why you were following me."

Elsa quickly inhaled and exhaled - everything hinged on what she had to say. Her arms ached, but she refused to lower them. "I wanted to talk," she said.

Frost scoffed. "There's nothing to be said."

"Please, just hear me out," she said pleadingly. "Let me say what I followed you to say, then you can shoot me, walk away, whatever. I won't stop you. Please."

Frost's jaw jutted out. His lips pursed together, and a loud exhalation of breath could be heard from his nose as he studied her. With every passing second, Elsa felt emboldened. Relaxed. Hopeful she could salvage something from the mess. "Fine," he said. "And wouldja lower your hands? You look like an idiot. It's embarrassing."

Ordinarily that would have stung, but Elsa was far too relieved to feel it. Her arms were _killing._ "Any funny business, though, and my friendship with Anna ends right here, Snow Queen," he added, but Elsa's relief deepened when she saw him lower his gun. He glanced behind her toward the mouth of the alleyway, and she could practically _feel_ the agitation radiating from him.

"I understand," she said, and in the hope of him seeing her as a person rather than her call sign, as her hands slowly went down to hang at her sides, she said, "My name is Elsa-"

"I don't care," Frost said in a voice soft but flat, slowly shaking his head. Still glancing behind her.

_Now_ she felt stung, not least from the interruption. Though she couldn't blame his aggressive apathy, she couldn't deny that there was an element of hurt that crossed her eyes. "O-of course."

"Look, I don't have time for this," he snapped, the anxiety reaching fever pitch. "If all you had to say was what I already know-"

Her hands shot up in a calming gesture. "I know the truth!" she blurted in an effort to keep him there. Frost's eyebrows rose into his snowy-white hair.

He snorted. "And it only took you, what - three years, nearly three hundred deaths and what's left of your soul to find that out?"

"You're right. You're right - I was so wrapped up in grief and anger that I wasn't thinking straight-"

"Must run in the family," Frost quietly grumbled. Elsa would have asked what he meant, but she was on a roll.

"- and I didn't question them when they told me it was you. I should have, I should've found out for myself long before now, and I didn't and I hurt you all, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We never meant for the... the Purge," she paused when Frost's face darkened at that word, "to end like that."

"You telling me you hopped onto that giant flying fucking cannon without a clue what they were gonna use it for? I thought you were supposed to be the smarter sister."

"You're right," she said. "I can't change what happened. I wish, I _really_ wish I could, but I can't. I just want to make it right."

Frost glared at her. "There's nothing you can do to make it right. This isn't like you stole a toy or cheated on your boyfriend. Even _if_ you didn't mean for the Purge to happen - I think you're full of shit, by the way - you still sent over thirty of my friends to die. You. Not your bosses. You."

Elsa flinched. Jafar said three of the scouts committed suicide, but she was repeatedly told by the powers-that-be the Furies, Spirits and their attached scout teams were incarcerated somewhere well above her clearance level. They were... dead? Did the scouts truly kill themselves?

Frost sensed her surprise, though it was anything but subtle. "Oh, you didn't know?" he said mockingly. "You know, for Unity's most famous and powerful team, they don't tell you a lot. I wonder why."

"No," she whispered, deflated, casting her eyes to the floor. "we didn't know. We were told-"

Frost stepped forward, and she looked up at him. "And that's the problem, Snow Queen. You were told. You didn't question it. Just like they wanted," he said. "Do you even _remember_ them?"

Elsa opened her mouth to say something, but words failed her. She closed it and tried to hold back the welling of guilty tears in her eyes. Frost sighed and did something she didn't expect him to do - slipped his pistol into the back of his pants. "Look, this has been fun. Well, pointless, actually. So, I'm gonna leave you to think on how you fucked up so hard - but if you want to make it right?"

"I do," she said in a cracked voice.

Frost leaned a little down on her, and for the first time he intimidated her. "Then stay out of our way," he growled.

Rendered numb by the conversation and where it went, Elsa broke eye contact and stared at a point halfway down his sweater, feeling an iron-like heaviness settle on her chest. A gust of wind swirled around her and rushed forth toward him, reminding her of the moments before he floated down from the rooftop. Realising he was preparing to take off and likely would never be seen again, her mind's eye flooded itself with images of Anna. Faces of love, admiration, joy, betrayal, resignation, all rushed forth and battled each other for supremacy in the split second it took for her to remember the damn reason she chased him in the first place.

Before she knew it, she gasped, looked up and called out, "Wait!"

Frost looked down from the support platform and frowned impatiently at her. "What?" he snapped.

Her hands found their way to her chest and clasped themselves together. Gazing imploringly at him, she asked, "You are Anna's best friend, right?"

For the briefest of moments, she swore she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, saw his lips part and heard the catch of his breath before a wall as cold as his powers shot up. "Why?"

"How...h-how is she?"

Frost snorted, and his brow knitted together while one eyebrow arched. "How do you _think?"_

Elsa nodded - it was a stupid question, and she knew it before she even asked. Still, it provided some form of closure, even if it was bleak, and implied Anna was still alive. So, in amongst the guilt, hopeful relief could be felt.

She took a chance.

"Could you give her a message for me?" she asked softly.

Frost's other eyebrow arched for an expression of unimpressed disbelief. "What do I look like, a courier?"

She pleaded with him. "Please. It's important."

Frost studied her for a few moments more before sighing. "What is it you want me to tell her?"

Elsa let out a shaky breath - her gamble paid off. She knew he could easily have told her to go fuck herself, and wouldn't have been surprised if he did. His remaining there and listening to her solidified the growing knowledge that he was a good person, and of just how wrong about him she was. She took a moment to think about what to say, but her now cautiously optimistic heart told her there was only one thing.

"Tell her…" she began. She paused to nibble her bottom lip, and swallow down the newly formed lump in her throat before speaking again.

"Tell her I love her."

Frost lifted his chin slightly, and there were a few heartrending seconds where the fear he would laugh and refuse gripped her heart. He proved her wrong again by slowly nodding. "Alright," he said.

"Thank-" she began, but didn't get to finish - Frost had already taken off into the air. The wind ruffled her bangs as she watched him disappear over the roof of the building into the night, taking her hopes with him. She sighed and whispered after him.

"I remember all of them."

A voice in her ear gave her a start, and she inwardly kicked herself both for being so jumpy, and forgetting she had an open com-line. " _I think that went well,"_ Rapunzel said in an upbeat voice.

Elsa smiled faintly, glazed eyes falling to look at the wall before her. "You heard everything, I take it?"

" _Pretty much. How're you doing? Don't hold back - Doc Rapunzel is in the house. I've got the sofa and everything."_

Elsa giggled to herself. The adrenaline faded from her body, slowing her heart to a comfortable, less punch-you-in-the-face rhythm, and she found her mind to be vastly clearer than before - so she could appreciate Rapunzel's off-the-wall humour all the more. "I'm…" she began, and searched herself for a true answer. "I'm okay."

" _Cool. Think he'll tell her? Your sister, I mean. Think he'll tell her what you said?"_

Elsa looked back up at the upper platform. "I hope he does," she said. She tried not to think of the possibility of him lying to her and not telling Anna a thing, but that kooky old notion of ' _hope'_ still held sway in her heart that the honour she saw in him from all those recordings months ago, and his restraint from avenging his kind meant that he would keep his word. Hope.

It made the world around her look just that little bit brighter.

" _Me too. Hey, one day you might be able to tell her yourself. How's that for a slice of optimism, huh?"_ Rapunzel said, and her exuberance radiated from the wrist-com's earpiece. It was infectious to say the least, though Elsa briefly wondered if Rapunzel should carry a health warning regarding sugary sweetness and the debilitating effects on teeth.

"Maybe."

" _Why don't you sound too sure?"_ Rapunzel said.

Elsa bit her lip and exhaled slowly through her nose as her gaze fell to the floor. "My sister wears... wore her heart on her sleeve. She was very emotive. Very stubborn. Sometimes obstinate. It was one of the annoying and endearing things about her, but... I fear with all that's happened…" she paused, if only to swallow and continue in a murmur, "I hope, but I must be realistic. Anna... she grew up. She is so much different now than she was then. I don't know how she'll react. She may refuse to listen - and I have to prepare myself for the possibility that what I have done may have irreparably destroyed our relationship."

Images of a goofy-looking snowman with a severe overbite and the bright and excited face of an eight year old Anna flooded her mind, and once more Elsa had to compose herself and force down the lump in her throat. It was painful enough to lose her parents, and even more so to learn her sister was missing - but to find out she was alive, and likely wanted nothing to do with her felt downright excruciating. A piece of Elsa was wherever Anna was, and the empty space _hurt._

" _Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?"_

Rapunzel wasn't often as good at sarcasm as Astrid, or Elsa, but sometimes she nailed it.

"I'm sorry," Elsa said. "It's just how I feel."

" _Yeah? Well I'll tell you what. I'll have enough hope for the both of-"_ Rapunzel stopped abruptly, as though distracted by something on the other end of the com-line. " _-wait…"_ she said, trailing off. Elsa's suspicions to that end were confirmed.

"What's the matter?"

When her eye-in-the-sky spoke again, Elsa's fragile optimism was immediately shot down, for the usually buoyant woman's voice was starkly solemn. " _Orders just came through from the Staging Ground. We have to report there tomorrow. We're being mobilised."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack's PoV was sort of inspired by the days following the Brexit referendum, where some people in my country openly heckled, accosted and insulted people who they perceived to be immigrants. Some of whom (I don't have the exact numbers) were born in the UK. It didn't matter if they were born here or not, there were instances of Muslim, Eastern European, European and more being told they were getting kicked out of the country, that they weren't wanted anymore. Children scared to go to school because other kids were laughing and jeering at them for being "foreign". There was one instance where a man happened upon two people who he thought were homeless and sleeping in the streets, but upon closer inspection found they had been beaten up by racist assholes and left unconscious on the ground. That kind of shit was perpetrated by right-wing parties and militant groups, and is not on. So I implore you, if you aren't already doing so - stand up against racism and hate. We're all human. We all bleed red. Doesn't matter if we're male, female, white, black, Asian, Middle-eastern, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, asexual, aromantic, whatever. The human race is capable of so much better things than needless violence and pointless hate. It shouldn't take the recent deaths of two peaceful and compliant young black lads, and five good cops for society to question just how many people need to die for bigotry in all its forms to stop, no matter WHO is doing it.
> 
> Sorry for the somewhat anvilicious rant - I just can't believe it's taking the human race so long to wake up.


	35. A New Way to Bleed

" **A New Way to Bleed"**

_Location: Unity Staging Ground_

_Date: December 2nd, 2073_

_Time: 17:00_

Sometimes you could tell who a visitor is by how they knock.

With Captain Drago Bludvist, it was three solid thumps on the door of Hans' office. He looked away from the concerned Inquisitor Jafar sat opposite his desk and briefly wondered whether a second set of knocks would bring the entire door down. It had rattled with every thud, which was hilarious considering they were magnetically sealed, and reminded Hans just how physically strong and imposing Bludvist was.

He should be smashing heads with a tree trunk, not captaining the pride of Unity's military.

"Should I depart?" Jafar asked. Hans drew his hands away from his desk and made a pyramid with his fingers over his top lip. Glancing back to the Inquisitor, he lightly shook his head.

"No," Hans said after a moment's deliberation. "He already knows about our plans."

Jafar's head turned an inch and regarded him through the corners of his eyes. "Are you sure you can trust him?"

"My dear Inquisitor," Hans said, choosing to hide his exasperation behind a wry smile, "Drago makes no secret of what he wants. Transparency is such a rare gift."

Jafar was one of the few people in Unity, aside from Hans himself, that possessed what those in the political sector would call ' _a silver tongue'._ Which meant you had to make sure he didn't speak too much.

"Don't you think?" Hans added, cutting the Inquisitor off before he could speak, and adding insult to injury by abruptly calling out, "Enter!"

The door slid open with a subtle _shht,_ and as expected, Drago's hulking form sidled into the room. Hans quietly mused whether the captain once experienced becoming stuck in a doorway and was thus forced to sidestep from then on. The door automatically closing, Hans watched Drago slowly make his way to the desk wearing an ill-fitting dress uniform, and a permanently etched frown. "Captain Bludvist, reporting as... ordered," he said in his customary rockslide voice, offering a salute that barely toed the line between respectful and mocking.

"At ease, Captain," Hans said with a polite smile. He gestured with one hand toward Jafar. "You know of Inquisitor Jafar, don't you?"

Drago's eyes slowly travelled to rest on the vastly thinner man and offered him little more than a curled lip and a contemptuous grunt. Translation: yes. Jafar rolled his eyes and shifted in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests while his fingers laced themselves together. Hans curled a wry half-smile - he could _feel_ the disdain radiating from both men. "Good. Saves time when I don't have to make introductions," he said. Offering a hand to the other chair, he looked up at Drago. "Would you care to sit, Captain?"

It was pointless and borderline offensive, considering there was no way in hell Drago's massive frame could even _think_ about sitting in such a comparatively tiny chair. Drago glanced down at it and back up to Hans with a _you-must-be-joking_ look. Still, one must be polite even to walking tanks. "I'll stand," he grunted.

"As you wish," Hans said. He sat up in his chair and regarded the captain with deep interest. "Now - as to the matter we discussed over the Uni-Com after my meeting with the Unifier: what's the progress on the dropship alterations?"

"She's the spitting image of the original," Drago said, folding his arms. "The name, the number, the hull scarring. She'll even fool our glorious pipsqueak Unifier."

Hans chuckled a single time. "Excellent - and the sensor modification?"

"Ready. As soon as it registers weapons fire, the distribution system will feed the main power back on itself and go critical within seconds. They'll never see it coming," Drago said, curling a smile that Hans couldn't work out if it was predatory or smug. "Though I don't know why you don't just shoot the damn thing down yourself. I would, and I'd look them in the eyes, too."

Hans opened his mouth to remind his caveman-compatriot of the importance of keeping one's hands as clean as possible, for innocence's sake, but his reprimand was ruined when Jafar piped up. "Are you certain it will work?"

Drago's smile fell like a stone, and as he glared, Hans wondered if he had insulted the captain's integrity and professionalism. "The simulations," Drago growled, "worked perfectly, Inquisitor. If I say something will work, it will work."

Jafar smoothly stood with the elegance of an unfurling snake and drew himself to his full six-four height, however, at six-ten Drago still towered over him. Smirking, Jafar said, "And yet, wasn't the _Hammer_ riddled with glitches and hardware errors?"

Drago's eyes grew stormy. A low, menacing rumble vibrated from his throat and his lips curled back to reveal gritted teeth. Aware that not only would a single punch decapitate the Inquisitor, but everything he worked toward would be revealed in the ensuing investigation, Hans shot to his feet. "Gentlemen, if I wanted to witness two grown men have a competition to see who had the bigger penis, I would spend time with my twelve brothers."

Both Jafar and Drago looked at him through the corners of their eyes, and for a moment Hans was struck with just how diminutive his five-six frame was in comparison. Pressing his advantage, he added, "This room is not big enough for two men with planet-sized egos, so in the interests of secrecy, please leave them at the door. Is that clear?"

The inches-from-brawling men studied Hans for a few seconds, until with a grunt from Drago and a derisive hum from Jafar, the brewing scuffle abated. Jafar returned to his chair and relaxed, crossing one ankle over his knee and lacing his fingers together. Drago, however, kept a glaring eye upon the Inquisitor.

"Now," Hans said as he seated himself, content that World War Four would not be declared in his office, "as tactless and rude as his question was, there is a reason for it."

"Yes," Jafar said. "It seems Miss Snowfield and her gang of harpies moved quicker than we expected."

Hans held up a finger. "Than _you expected_ , Jafar. I knew she would try to uncover the truth as soon as she could. She _is tenacious_ when it comes to seeking answers. Six teams and a sunken vessel are testament to that."

He exhaled through his nose, a long breath. He learned a long time ago that plans are not set in stone and seldom play out the way they are supposed to. That life was unpredictable and fluid, and therefore the best laid plans are ones that can adapt accordingly. "Nevertheless, it means she knows about Henrik ahead of schedule. Therefore, we should accelerate our plan. Drago?"

The captain grunted. Hans took it to mean he had his attention. "How many flight-capable craft can you muster in four days' time?"

Drago shrugged offhandedly. "Twenty five drones, maybe two or three _Einherjars."_

Hans leaned back into his chair, clasped his hands together and tapped his upper lip with his index fingers as he looked away in calculating thought. "It's not ideal," he said, sighing, "but it will have to do. Four of my best students recently completed their flight exam and are due their first mission, so I will send them as well."

"Should be enough." Drago said. "A _Hela_ would be no match for all that."

"One can only hope." Hans looked to Jafar. "Will your transmission be ready for then?"

Jafar gave him a funny look. "Of course."

Hans studied him for a few moments more. "Good." He straightened up in his seat and kept his hands together as he rested his arms on his obsidian matt black desk. "I need not remind you of the secrecy in which we are operating and that our timing... it must be _flawless."_ Hans stood and smoothed down his military jacket. "Now, speaking of timing - I must bring our conversation to a close. Matters in the Staging Ground do not tend to themselves. Good luck, gentlemen."

Jafar and Drago both said their goodbyes, with the latter offering little more than an uncivilised grunt. It was one reason Hans trusted him - Drago wasn't exactly complicated. What he saw was what he got. Waiting until the broad man sidled back through the doorway, Hans pressed a faintly glowing white button on the right of his desk and leaned slightly toward it.

"Lieutenant Kowalski?"

The voice that emanated from the desk's integrated speakers was feminine and clear, but possessed a sandpaper-like edge to it which grated on the ears after protracted periods of time. Lieutenant Kowalski was an invaluable member of his staff thanks to her skill in administration, and displayed excellent prowess in the bedroom on nights where his stress needed relieving. Amongst other things. " _Yes, sir?"_

"Please could you draft me four mobilisation papers? It seems I have to cut the Valkyries' leave short," he said, trying to force away the desire to call her into the office and get her out of those clothes. As she stated her acknowledgement, he looked up at the clock on the wall next to the door, and noticed he had a good fifteen minutes until the first staff meeting of the night. Fifteen minutes to kill, with a gorgeous, confident, buxom redhead sat in the next room. It was fraternisation with a fellow officer and thus would get him in serious trouble. It was also an irresistible opportunity.

" _Will there be anything else, sir?"_

The memory and sensation of her lips around him filled his mind, and his willpower was happily crushed.

"Yes. Could you come into my office, please?"

* * *

_Location: Settlement Eighty-six, Zone Thirty-two_

_Date: December 3rd, 2073_

_Time: 13:29_

Jack pulled his hood closer around his head, and shrunk further into the corner of the dimly lit, barely structurally sound bar. With stormy eyes, he stared at the translucent blue plastic glass, with the just-about-visible blue liquid in it. _New Arendelle Shoreline,_ the bar guy called it. Jack cared little as to its name, he cared about whether it was strong.

Boy, it was. He could clean the _Fairy's_ thrusters with it, and he was sure it had eaten through his stomach lining and started on his guts as a second course. He still didn't much care, though - the stronger the synth-booze, the quicker it could silence his mind.

Ever since that encounter with Snow Queen - he refused to refer to her by her real name even in his thoughts; it was easier to depersonalise her after what she'd done - his mind had been ablaze with an avalanche of questions and intrusive thoughts. Was she _truly_ apologetic for everything? Was she, like Anna, so blinded by grief and rage she lashed out at the person not responsible? He snorted under his breath and took another sip of the liquid which burned its way down his throat. Birds of a feather, those two.

Except Anna didn't exactly rack up a body count in the low three hundreds when she had a hissy fit.

He bowed his head and chewed his lip. Focusing his eyes on the heavily gouged and worn circular bistro table - the bar had all sorts of tables, from restaurant to coffee, but that one looked the sturdiest - he remarked upon the weird sensation of knowing you have to go somewhere, but hating the idea of it. Snow Queen had put his tenure in New Burgess to an early end; it was too dangerous to remain there after she found him, especially after the chase, so the only place to go was home. Where the woman who had been trying to talk to him over the radio every single time he reported in - he had delayed two check-ins because of that - would be waiting. A conversation with Anna would be deep, heavy, and painful... and he wasn't ready for it. Who would be? Your best friend accuses you of letting her husband and your surrogate mother die, and then two days later flips that on its head? Jack wondered if the dictionary definition of _emotional whiplash_ came with a picture of Anna.

The Uni-Com in the far corner of the bar, set to the news wave where Cynthia mindlessly reported anything and everything remotely intelligent, cut to a new segment. Jack ignored it. Nothing good on the Media Stream, anyway.

Going back also meant having to be the leader again and not try to pretend it wasn't happening. He always felt Hiccup was leader material even if he was heavily nomadic and preferred messing around with Toothless rather than turning up on time to briefings and deployments, so when Kristoff nominated him as XO it was bewildering. However, it still meant people were now looking to _him_ for decisions and directions, and that kind of responsibility he wasn't ready for - on the other hand there was no way he could be ready in the first place. The circumstances of his succession weren't exactly peaceful.

There was one hope he was holding onto though, one that might validate, in his mind, his suitability for leadership: steal a fuel cell, find the _Fairy,_ take his team home. The only objective that made sense. The only one _achievable._

He had just taken another sip of the engine degreaser when Cynthia began a new story. He felt the inexplicable compulsion to glance up at the screen and noticed a map of Unity territory's eastern and western borders. Frowning, he felt the burn of uncertain dread in his heart... and wondered why.

"Yo," he called out to the bartender who was busy amusing himself by making a pyramid out of plastic glasses identical to his, "you mind turning that up?"

The bartender, a young brunette guy with uneven five-day growth, looked up at him and then back at his work, an expression of deep worry on his face. "Dude, it's not going anywhere. Turn the damn thing up," Jack said, gesturing irritably at the unsteady-looking pyramid.

Casting one further look, the bartender then rolled his eyes and yelled at the Uni-Com to increase its volume - which it did, and what followed tore Jack's hope to pieces.

" _Reports from the Citadel indicate that the government is increasing patrols and sensor sweeps of Unity territory. Einherjar patrols will be doubled, and new sensor stations are being installed near the coastline to detect, detain and investigate unauthorised or suspicious craft entering or leaving our borders. Whether this is simply a revised security measure, or we should expect greater tension with the Alliance, the Unifier is remaining tight-lipped. However, what the Citadel has said is that, for the foreseeable future, these changes will remain in place and are unlikely to be lifted."_

Jack's heart hit the floor. The implication was clear.

* * *

_Location: Unknown_

_Date: December 3rd, 2073_

_Time: 16:58_

Frowning, Hiccup held the two planks of wood together in the manner Kozmotis told him to, and cocked his head in puzzlement. He'd seen this symbol once or twice over his lifetime perched on or attached to buildings on the way between settlements, but he never really knew what they were. Neither did his parents Stoick and Valka, come to think of it. So for Kozmotis to request four of such symbols - he had asked a few times who the fourth was for and was met with silence every time - puzzled him deeply.

Still, it seemed important, and if it was for a good reason, then Hiccup was all for it.

Laying one plank horizontally and three quarters the way up across the other which was also resting on the crate he dragged out of the barn, he plucked one of the three nails from between his lips. Whilst holding the nail in place where the two planks crossed and sliding the hammer out of his pocket, he glanced up at the fiery amber and crimson sunset that painted the sky in a watercolour sea of red, gold and purple. Sunsets like that, he missed, perching on the edge of the _Star's_ external elevators. Seeing all the trees around kind of ruined it. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the strange symbol, and proceeded to hammer the first nail into it while his mind ticked over.

Jack was annoying him. Sure, the guy had a horrible streak of luck - _don't we all,_ a voice in his head reminded him - but the way he was dealing with the Anna situation wasn't exactly grown-up. Taking himself off to New Burgess alone, with no-one to have his back was bad enough, but to freak the shit out of everyone when he checked in two hours later than scheduled, making them think Unity had taken him out for those two hours? He had half a mind to apply the hammer to Jack's head.

He had just finished the first nail and was moving onto the second when a pair of legs appeared in his upper vision. He looked up with blank eyes at Anna, who stood with her hands behind her back and rocking on her feet, appraising his work with curious eyes, and wondered how silly he looked with a nail poking between his lips. "Eyanna. Whaffup?"

She gave him an odd look. "In English, please?"

Hiccup frowned, then realised why she was so weirded out. Plucking the nail from between his lips, he repeated - with infinitely greater clarity, "Hey, Anna. What's up?"

"Ah!" She shrugged, looking increasingly like she was hovering. "Nothing much. Koz is reading, and I'm bored. Thought I'd come bug you. Whatcha making?"

Hiccup looked down at his handiwork and did a shrug of his own. "I got nothin'," he said. "Koz asked me to make four of them for the funeral - any idea what it is?" He lifted it up and planted it on the ground. The dying sunset blew its golden breath over it, casting an elongated shadow behind the symbol that Hiccup, when he glanced behind it in curiosity, found alternately comforting and sobering.

"Nope," Anna said, popping the ' _p'_ as she gestured with one hand toward it. "I mean, it looks like a plus sign, but you've got the horizontal line too high up."

Eyes returning to his work, he rested a hand on the tip and gazed at it. "That's what I thought, but Koz says it's supposed to look like that. Says it's called a _crucifix._ Know what that means?"

Anna quirked her lips sideways. Her shoulders rose and dropped, and she looked a little disappointed. "Sorry, Hic. I don't know what to tell you."

"Yeah, me neither," Hiccup said. Sighing, he lifted the ' _crucifix'_ up from the ground and laid it back on the crate, before proceeding to hammer in the third nail. "Maybe one day he'll tell us."

"Maybe. Guess he thinks it's important to the funeral," Anna said. Having completed the first one, Hiccup bent down to pick up three more nails, and was appreciative to find Anna was already pulling up two more planks from the other side of the crate. Smiling, he thanked her before measuring the placement of the two planks by sight.

"No problem," she said. "Oh, speaking of everyone's favourite ray of sunshine - he's been in a shitty mood this afternoon. What's up with him?"

In the process of applying the first strike to the first nail, Hiccup winced, and the hammer froze midway. He exhaled a long breath through his nose, and said, "I kinda mentioned Belle."

It was Anna's turn to wince, and she even hissed a breath for emphasis. "Ayayay - no wonder he was so grumpy. Belle's, like, his berserk button. Why'd you mention her?"

"It was an accident! I saw this rose poking out of his vest, and I made a comment on how it was her favourite flower. He looked at me like I just burned a bunch of books, yelled something about not knowing a thing, and stormed out. Toothless was, like, ' _what just happened?'._ I mean... wait…"

Anna frowned and cocked her head. "What's wrong?"

Hiccup looked up at her, face slack with understanding. The hammer fell against the crucifix, more a reaction to the clues falling into place than bad aim. "I think I worked out who the fourth cross is for…"

Anna's eyes went wide, the penny dropping. "Belle's _dead?_ We've been thinking for over a year that she was M.I.A... why didn't Koz say anything?"

"Dunno," Hiccup said, "but I'm not gonna ask him. Are you?"

"Hell no." Anna looked at him like he'd just suggested he paint Toothless' scales a shocking pink. Chuckling, Hiccup returned his attention to the first nail and vigorously tapped it into the wood. "I don't back down from a fight, but even I…"

He didn't notice Anna trailing off at first. The next nail was threatening to misalign itself and go somewhere only it knew, so he was too focused on tapping its side to cotton on to her abrupt silence, and how the wind had changed direction. Instead of his forehead being tickled by his errant bangs as they haphazardly danced in the breeze, the nape of his neck was being pelted by a bitterly cold gust. He shivered, and glanced up to see if it was just him feeling the chill - which was when he noticed Anna's head moving to and fro, her eyes rapidly scanning the sky behind him, body erect and alert.

"Anna? What's up?"

The faintest of smiles curled her lips though her eyes were still of concern. Her gaze did not come down from the purple, cloud-swept sky. "Jack's coming back," she said, both happily and relievedly.

Hiccup straightened and twisted around to scan the sky. He couldn't see anything remotely looking like a snow-haired Ghost approaching, just a lilac canvas and dark cotton puffs. "How'd you figure that?"

"The wind," Anna said. "Until a minute ago, it's been a cool breeze behind me - now it's a freezing gale in my face."

"Could be just cross-winds," Hiccup suggested, giving her an odd look out of the corner of his eye.

Anna's smile turned into a wry smirk, and she returned his look with something that was annoyingly smug. "Cross-winds. Sure. Tell me, how's your spleen?"

It took him a moment to comprehend her meaning, especially with her being so uncharacteristically vague - maybe she was just trying to mock him - but once he remembered his favourite embellishment for how cold it could be, he registered how chilly it actually was. "Frostbitten," he said with a tone dryer than the salt flats in zone twenty-six as he looked back up at the sky. "Jack's coming back."

The gusts of wind became one full blast in their faces, enough to cause Hiccup to stumble backwards, and howled around them with enough force to bang the farmhouse's window shutters against the wall. "Something's wrong," he said, struck with the compulsion to state the obvious.

"Yeah," Anna said, all trace of her upbeat tones disappearing. "He's pissed."

"You can feel that?"

"No." Anna shook her head and drew her arms around herself. Whether it was from the viciously dropping temperature, or her automatic reaction to negative emotions within, he wasn't sure. Until she elaborated. "When Jack's worried, sad or anxious, the air gets colder. When he's angry, or hurting, the wind gets stronger. Right now, it's _both."_

"I've got an idea," she said. Unfurling her arms, she conjured a small ball of flame in her right hand and cast it away, where it landed a few feet to her right. After a sweeping motion from the same hand, the flame became a ten foot long line that led to the house, flickering and occasionally intensifying with the wind. "Hopefully he can see that," she said as she returned her gaze to the sky.

"He can," Hiccup said, and pointed to just over the treeline, where a small dot was rapidly approaching. "Look."

Sure enough, the dot grew and grew into a full-sized Jack, staff protruding from his right hand and the large bag he left with over his shoulder. What made Hiccup backpedal a few steps was the speed at which he approached, and any wonders as to whether he would slow down to landing were swiftly dispelled by the grassy thud of the harsh three-point landing as a result of the approach speed. Not to mention he had only stopped for half a second before marching on toward the house, completely failing to acknowledge their existence. It was especially rude, thought Hiccup, when Anna was the one to guide him in.

"Jack!" she called out, her left hand waving over the flames to extinguish them as she jogged just to keep up with him. "What's the matter?"

The thing that _really_ took Hiccup aback, was that even partially concealed by his hood, Jack's face was like thunder.

* * *

Jack knew it wasn't right to ignore her. After all, she did create a quasi-runway light for him, which ensured he would not hit the farmhouse wall in the dark. Judging by how she was keeping up with him, asking him what the matter was - surely, she should know? - his theory that she wasn't the crazy ragey widow anymore was proving itself.

Still, he was world-class at shutting the world out when _he_ was pissed and hurting, so ignoring her was surprisingly easy and even cathartic - if guilt-inducing. After all, he found out the only thing in his mind that would justify his ascension to leadership had been shot down before he even set out to achieve it. He kept his staff extended as he stomped up onto the veranda; he had a suspicion he would not be there for long.

"Jack, talk to me. Let me help."

It was on the tip of his tongue to issue a vicious remark on the hypocrisy of her words. He focused his attention on going inside - there was an item in his bedroom he wanted - and then he'd probably find somewhere to be alone and think. Naturally, such a plan was wide open to life's intervention, which happened as soon as he opened the front door in the form of Kozmotis barring his path. Instinctively, Jack tried to move past him, but the taller Ghost blocked whichever way he chose.

"Well, well," Kozmotis said, in a tone far too reminiscent of the one he used in the _Star's_ gym, "the prodigal leader returns."

Jack drew himself to his full height, rolled his shoulders back and glared unblinkingly into Kozmotis' golden black hole eyes. "Move, Pitch," he said, with as much calm as a thunderstorm could muster.

Kozmotis sneered - lip curl and all. "Ignore him, Jack," Anna quickly attempted to interject, "Hiccup says he's been in a bad mood all day."

Golden eyes looked over the top of snow white hairs to rest on aquamarine blues. "I think I can speak for myself, Anna."

"Leave her alone," Jack growled, "and get out of my way."

Kozmotis' gaze slowly travelled back down to meet Jack's, and studied him for a second, before chuckling darkly and standing to the side. Muttering a brisk thanks, Jack resumed his journey toward his bedroom.

"Did you kill a Valkyrie?"

And then stopped dead. Wide eyes focused themselves on dimly lit floorboards - _huh, Hiccup got the power working -_ and his right hand squeezed his staff. "What makes you think that's what I was gonna do?"

It was a pointless question, considering he already gave a skyscraper-sized hint to everyone in the room that the question had hit the mark, but in some inept and wild form of defending himself, it slipped out before he even noticed. Silence hung in the air like an unwelcome smell, mingling with the thick and taut tension that was inches from snapping.

"You took Pippa with you."

Jack let out a shaky breath, one he had to force his lungs to keep quiet. Hiccup must have talked, or Kozmotis invaded Jack's personal space and searched his room. It was fine Hiccup knowing when he hadn't assumed that one of the Valkyries was on Jack's hit list - but Kozmotis was as astute as ever. In front of Anna.

Who was, more than likely, putting two and two together.

Hence why he wasn't going to turn around.

"And if I did?"

"You're not answering my question," Kozmotis repeated, and there was a forceful, angry, gritted-teeth quality to his speech that Jack wasn't sure he liked, judging by the trickle of something sinister down his spine. "I asked you if you killed a Valkyrie."

"No."

What followed was something Jack expected yet didn't expect, as it was exactly what Kozmotis would come out with, yet was surprised he would come out with such a thing in front of someone who had more emotional ties to the clusterfuck of a situation than anyone in the room.

"Why not?"

Jack's head swiveled to give him one of the most stupefied expressions he had ever adopted in all the years he could remember. Kozmotis could be as insensitive as a spiked snowball and about as user friendly, but this was beyond that. This was outright heartless. His mind cycled through replies as he stared, answers like " _because I'm not an inconsiderate fuck like you",_ and " _Two words: Rule Six"_ along with " _oh, sure, let's use a loud weapon no-one's heard for over fifty years in the middle of the second busiest city to kill_ one _person. Prick."_

He settled on a question. Unslinging the bag from his shoulder, he let it fall to the floor with a heavy clunk to prove a point. "What do _you_ think?" He passed his staff to his left hand and turned toward the hallway into the rest of the house, hoping that was the end of it.

Hope was in short supply, and it wasn't likely any hope would be air-dropped soon, it seemed, because Kozmotis went from just-about-calm to enraged in the space of a second. What he wanted, Jack didn't know, but it was clear he would not stop. It was also clear, he didn't care who he hurt.

He stalked behind Jack, yelling every step of the way. "What do I think? I think you're a half-measure. I think you're a coward. I think you don't have the stomach to get the job done, and I think Kristoff made a mistake having _you_ as his second-in-command!"

Jack snarled, clenching his shaking fists. "Back off, Koz." He kept walking, and had just passed into the hall.

"I knew you were _weak._ You hit them, and they get back up. I do, and they _stay down!"_

Red was all Jack saw, and before his brain could materialise a thought he had turned to drive a fist into Kozmotis' jaw. The stricken man stumbled amid cries and yells to stop, but Jack wasn't listening anymore. Dropping the staff to the floor, his hands lashed out to grab fistfuls of Kozmotis' shirt and yanked him up to slam him against the corner where the living room met the hallway, hard enough for a cry of pain to escape from the otherwise hardy Ghost.

He stared at the smirking man, eyes wide with wrath and breaths coming deep and fast, barely controlled by thought, his knuckles digging into Kozmotis' chest with how hard he was holding him against the corner.

"Jack!" yelled Anna. "Let him go!"

He ignored her. "You wanna know why I didn't take the shot?!" Jack roared. If this was catharsis, he wasn't sure whether it was after the crap Kozmotis threw at him or the entire damn week. "You wanna know why?!"

He released Kozmotis' T-shirt and stepped back. Without even looking, he pointed at Anna, who judging by how the temperature of the air at his left had risen, had moved to try and stop the fight.

" _She_ is why."

He watched Kozmotis' smirk fall quicker than the fiercest rain, and watched his eyes shoot over to Anna, and gaze at her with an expression he couldn't quite work out. "Fuck you, Koz," Jack spat, before darting down to pick up his staff and making his way to the hallway. He cast one look at Anna before he moved and she looked back at him with a mix of relief, gratitude, surprise and appreciation, but also a little fear.

He went into the hallway. "Jack, wait!" he heard her call out.

* * *

He saw Elsa.

He saw Elsa long enough to put her in his sights.

Anna was stunned. No-one told her he'd taken Pippa with him, she just thought he'd gone for information gathering and reconnaissance. Nothing about assassination. Now, she found out it was _both_ , and he had pointed a gun at her sister. Strangely, she didn't feel infuriated that he had done that, but felt a weird sense of relief and appreciation he didn't take the shot. Even more so that he was putting _her_ emotional well-being over his justifiable chance at vengeance.

"Fuck you, Koz," Jack spat. Unable to speak or move, Anna watched as he darted down to pick up his staff, and felt herself become rigid when he looked at her. What was it in his eyes? Guilt? Expectancy? A plea for understanding... for help?

_Help me?_

He continued on toward his bedroom. "Jack, wait!" she called out. She wasn't about to let him be alone. There was so much that needed to be said. So much she had to apologise for, and if she had to be honest she was crying out for his presence.

He ignored her. Stirred into action, she followed him into the hallway, and heard the slam of his bedroom door. The click of the lock. Her breath caught in her throat, and she slowed to a standstill - it was happening all over again. She was being separated from someone she deeply cared about by a _door._ "Jack, please, I need to talk to you," she called out, and pushed herself on. It hurt, but she would not hold it against him. She knew none of it would have happened if she hadn't blown up at him like she did.

She reached the door and hammered a fist against it. "Don't shut me out, Jack. I want to fix this, let me come in!"

Pausing, she listened out - nothing. She thought she heard the sound of wood scraping against wood, but she couldn't be sure over her rampaging heartbeat. "Jack, give me a chance to talk. I need to talk to you."

"Anna, give him time. He'll come around."

She glanced at Hiccup, who stood where the living room met the hallway. Behind him, Kozmotis gingerly lowered himself onto one of the chairs surrounding the worn dining table, left arm resting upon the table while his right hand massaged his jaw. She shook her head. No way in hell was she going to let it happen again. "I can't, Hiccup. He's hurting, and he needs me."

She did the only thing that made sense to her at the time. She took two steps back, focused her gaze at a patch of the door a few inches away from the lock, sucked in a breath, and aimed a kick fuelled by all the strength she could muster. Her boot hit the door with a bang, wrenching it away from the lock with a pained wooden creak, and forcing it to swing wide and slam against the wall.

Her heart fell, and her arms dropped to hang at her sides. She was already too late - there was no sign of him. Nothing to show he'd ever been there... except a wide-open window on the other side of the room, nestled in between aged and dirty yellow curtains that flapped in the breeze. Gasping, she rushed onward and leaned out of the window, frantically scanning the sky.

Her shoulders flopped, and disappointment reigned over her. The sky was dark blue, and Jack-free. "Dammit," she whispered.

* * *

_Time: 18:50_

Ninety minutes.

Ninety minutes of floor-pacing, under-breath-muttering worry.

Her hands linking themselves to her chest, Anna completed another length of the living room. She was still oblivious to Hiccup, who had spent the same amount of time alternating between attempting to read a book, attempting to spin a metal washer on the table, attempting to fix a gadget, attempting to get her to calm down, and attempting to get Toothless to calm down - the not-so-large size of the living room prevented the dragon from taking shelter inside. The key word was attempting - a pacing, muttering, worried fire-wielding abbie was kind of a distraction she would freely admit to.

"You know, I'd crack a joke about you burning a line in the floor, but you might actually do that."

Stopping halfway in his general direction, Anna looked up at him, offered a nervous titter, and immediately resumed her pacing. Sure, it was funny, but sometimes humour wasn't as effective as the old saying about medicine implied. Worrying about what could have happened to Jack ranked high on that list. She heard a groan from somewhere around the dining table, and ignored _that,_ too.

"He'll come back, Anna," the rider offered in another attempt, one of reassurance. Anna was unaffected.

"It's been an hour and a half. It's dark out. He should be back by now," she rambled.

"He's fine," Hiccup said. "Trust me. He wants to be alone."

She shook her head more vigorously than would be considered normal and doubled back. "Nobody wants to be alone. Except maybe Koz."

"Yeah, well, I told you."

Intrusive thoughts circled like vultures, of Jack being torn apart. "But what if Reapers got him?"

"We would have heard their shrieks," Hiccup said without a trace of concern.

"Maybe he ran into a Unity patrol…" Now the thoughts were of him standing alone against a legion of faceless clones. Jack was good, but he wasn't invincible. None of them were. The Purge proved that. Abbies may be stronger, faster and tougher than humans or clones, but they were still mortal.

"Then," Hiccup sighed, "he would have called for backup. Or taken them out. Anna, he's okay."

She knew he was trying his best to ease her anxiety, and on any other day Hiccup was good at that sort of thing. Kristoff once joked that he was the ship's counselor, given that he was usually the person people talked at whenever they had problems. Still, it wasn't having much of an effect on the tightness in her chest - if anything, it was making it worse.

She stopped mid-pace, unable to take the waiting anymore. Patience was never her strong suit after all. "I'm going to find him," she declared, and strode off toward her bedroom.

As predicted, Hiccup got up to follow her and protest. "Anna…"

"No, Hic," she said as she pushed open the door. She briskly went to the nightstand and pulled open the topmost drawer, where a stun pistol lay inert. "I can't sit around here and wait for something bad to happen." She pulled out the pistol before lifting her right foot onto the bed and slipping the weapon into her thigh holster. Just in case. "He needs to know I still care, and the best way for me to prove that is to go out and find him."

Hiccup sighed and held up his hand. "Okay, fine. But I'm coming with you."

Anna shook her head, and moved past him to leave the bedroom, practically jogging to the door. "Thanks, but no. I need to do this alone."

"I wasn't asking."

Hand on the door handle, she turned and gave him a surprised look, which he returned with an expression of immovable resolve. Generally, Hiccup was easy going and chilled, but could be assertive when the situation called for it. It must have been one of those times, yet she was still taken aback.

He lifted a finger. "For one, I'm not letting you do this alone. I'm getting a little tired of people going off and doing their own thing, worrying everyone else along the way, so I'm coming with you. We both know Jack would never forgive himself if something happened to you." Second finger went up. "Two, it's gonna be a helluva lot easier to fly than drive." Third finger. "Three, Toothless has been getting antsy, and he deserves a chance to stretch his wings. Poor guy's been cooped up around the farm."

She relaxed, but it was out of exasperation. "Hic…"

He spread his hands, offering compromise. "Look, if you wanna talk to him alone, that's fine. I'll just fly you there and leave. You two figure it out, Jack'll give you a lift back. Just gimme a few minutes to get Toothless ready, and get your cloak."

She frowned and tilted her head. "Why the cloak?"

Hiccup gave her an odd look. "You kidding me? Forgotten what the air was like earlier? You'll probably be walking into a snowstorm."

She tilted her head back and conceded the point with a mumble of " _ah."_ Granted, she hadn't intended to wear the cloak until the funeral, but Hiccup was right. Jack could tolerate extreme cold, and it was certain he would have conjured up a snowstorm to keep people away. Her own gifts would have held back the storm, but short of covering her entire body in flames - which would leave her naked in the blizzard, even with the fire-retardant material Hiccup had woven into her clothing long ago - it would be difficult to hold back the icy bite of the air.

"I'll wait for you outside," she said, opening the door and stepping off the veranda onto the damp grass, the faintest hiss of the moisture sat on the blades of green evaporating into the air accompanying Hiccup's strides toward the barn.

Maybe it was the difference in reason for her waiting, but the thoughts in her mind were no longer a laundry list of horrible things that could happen to her friend without her to back him up. Rather, they were memories of things they had gotten up to, and the times they'd grown closer. The sessions of powers-training where, over time, she'd learned to control and manipulate her gift with precision - one memory easily came to the front of her mind, of the later stages of her training. Fire was hungry; it consumed, grew, spread. Consumed, grew, spread. Nature, wiping the slate clean with ash and flame. That evening's lesson was to learn how to bend it to her will, rather than direct it and let it satisfy its need to devour, she had to use it like she would use a tiny paintbrush to paint the smallest picture. To make the inferno consume what she wanted, how much of it she wanted, and control it with absolute confidence.

By the end of the fourth lesson - it had taken her a few sessions to get to grips with it - she had impressed him with her ability to ignite the smallest patch of air in front of her eyes and set her hair aflame, making her eyes look like she was a being of pure fire wrapped in the body of a human. She never did it again unless she wanted to show off.

She flexed and relaxed her fingers over and over again; clench and release, clench and release, to assuage their need to do something. She eventually figured they would be happier manipulating a tiny ball of flame around her hand as practise to keep her powers sharp, so conjured a small fireball to keep herself entertained.

Which was when she realised - finding Jack would be easier than she thought.

The tips of the flames were dragged away by a gentle breeze, like they were being coaxed toward a specific direction. She looked away at nothing in particular, paying close attention to the breeze and how it wasn't chaotic and indecisive like they usually are. It was sustained, and clear with its intent. A smile tugged at her lips. She lowered her hand and gently tossed the fireball into the air, watching as it floated along the breeze to the west for a few yards before flickering out.

"Follow the wind," she murmured. "You're telling me where to go, aren't you?"

* * *

The blizzard that encircled the small hill wasn't as bad as either Anna or Hiccup expected - far from it. She was expecting a full-blown snowstorm, wild and large enough to attract attention from miles around, and a carpet of ice under her feet.

As she slid down the scales on Toothless' back, she watched the flakes shoot by. It wasn't a lazy snowfall - the flakes were travelling at fast enough speeds to warrant uncertainty and the use of a hand to cover the eyes, and there were enough of them to cover the world in a horizontally travelling blanket of white that appeared and disappeared in the dark. It was fierce, certainly, but even though the wind howled in her ears, it wasn't dangerous.

In short - it wasn't a " _stay the hell away from me"_ blizzard. She thought of it as an " _I'm hurting and I want my friend"_ blizzard.

"You gonna be okay in there?" Hiccup asked nervously, his eyes fixed too on the whirling white screen.

Anna didn't answer at first. The sight of so much snow was sending her down Memory Lane on a hoverbike, with memories of snowmen and snow angels with her sister, cavorting for hours in a canvas of alabaster, and memories of frenetic snowball fights with Jack on the deck of the _Star._ Summer was her favourite season, but winter aroused such a childish joy that few other things could compare with it. A smile curled her lips and her inner child danced a little jig, pushing back the darkness of the world.

Still, it was enough to give Hiccup cause for concern, not to mention how the air _was_ bitterly cold. That part she wasn't looking forward to - being pelted by snow while she pushed on, she could put up with, but the cold air would make it outright painful.

It didn't matter. "I'll be fine, Hic," said Anna. She drew her hood over her head, and pulled the cloak tighter around herself, hoping he didn't notice. Breathing in and out to prepare herself, she took the first step toward the swirling vortex of white.

"Wait!"

... and then stopped in her tracks. Turning, she gave Hiccup a disapproving frown, which turned to a relaxed grin of gratitude when she saw the artificial torch in his hand, the light banishing the darkness. "Figured you could use this," he said, and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said. "See you back at the house."

Without another word, and without allowing herself a moment's hesitation, she turned back to the snowstorm and walked in... which was where the strangest thing happened. Instead of buffeting her to the left and spraying her with thick, large flakes of snow, the wind seemed to _curve_ around her. The white flecks lost momentum, descending to graze the grass in front of her before being picked up again on her other side, and nary a snowflake touched her cloak. It was like the storm was granting her access, clearing her a path then veiling it behind her. Curious, she stopped and turned to look back at Hiccup, who under the dwindling glow of the torch had stuck his hand into the blizzard only to yank it back out again with a yelp of " _yeesh, that's cold",_ before frantically brushing off the white powder that had covered his arm in a mere second.

She chucked to herself - only _she_ was allowed in. Whether it was Jack's subconscious, or the wind possessing some form of sentience, she wasn't sure. Either way, it would make her job a damn sight easier. Turning back, she continued on through the haze of white, one hand clutching the cloak to hold off the chilly air whilst the other held the torch in front of her. The snow crunched under her boot, the shift in the powdery bed with each step making that inner child dance a little more. Minutes passed, with the wintry haze coming thicker and faster the further she walked.

It suddenly calmed.

Anna stopped in her tracks. Confused, she looked behind her, noticing how the veil of white still raged on. She turned back and looked at the ground - snow-free. "Huh," she murmured. "Snow," she thumbed behind her, "no snow," she pointed down. "Snow, no snow."

"Believe it or not," a voice called out ahead, "this isn't what it's supposed to be like."

A quiet intake of breath, and she lifted the torch - there he was, merely a few yards ahead. He was knelt, sat on his feet with his back to her, his hood covering his head and his staff across his lap. Completely still, and had he not spoken, there was no sign he knew of her presence. Allowing herself a small sigh of relief, she made her way to his side and lowered herself to the ground.

"You found me," he said emotionlessly, once she finished getting comfortable in a cross-legged position, and placed the torch in front of them.

"You weren't exactly difficult to find," she said. "If we Ghosts want to disappear, we disappear, but you kinda left one hell of a trail." She jabbed a thumb behind her. "You're lucky this is snowstorm season, 'cause breadcrumbs doesn't cut it."

Jack issued a noncommittal hum.

She cast him a single glance; he still stared out into the dark with sad, thoughtful eyes, and his bangs poked out from under the hood hem. The air felt somewhat awkward, like both of them were full of things to say but left them unsaid, let them hang in the air between them. It clenched at Anna's stomach. "So what _is_ it supposed to be like?" she tried to start with small talk.

"Still."

Anna couldn't help snorting. "Seriously?"

That time, Jack joined in the humour, even if it was in the form of the faintest smile. "Yep," he said with a voice of bitter self-ridicule, "There's only supposed be six or seven snowflakes, and they're meant to be hovering around me."

She looked at him. "That's the technique Mulan taught you?"

"Yeah." Jack's head bowed an inch, and his fingers absentmindedly rolled the staff between them on his lap. "She said if my mind is all over the place and I need to get my bearings, then I should do this. I'm trying, but... it's not working."

"What do you have to do?" she asked, wondering if there was a way she could help.

Jack shrugged lightly. "In a word? Focus. I make six or seven snowflakes, let a breeze carry them around me, and then concentrate on trying to make them stay still. The longer I do it, the easier it gets, so my mind can then work stuff out on its own. Problem is, I can't focus hard enough to focus in the first place."

Anna glanced at the swirling snow, barely visible whorl around her. "So you can't calm it down."

"Nope. I tried, but I guess I'm screwing _that_ up, too."

Anna closed her eyes and gently winced. "Jack," she said, her voice cracking as she turned to look into his eyes, "I'm sorry about-"

He shook his head. "Not just yet, Anna. I'm not ready."

"Okay," she whispered, her eyes falling.

Silence descended between them. His eyes remained focused on a small patch of grass while hers constantly glanced up at him and back down to his knee. She hated the uncomfortable, awkward air. The words she wanted to say were scrambling from her heart to her throat, but clashing against the wall made by her mind.

Jack took a deep breath through his nose. "When Kristoff made me his XO, I couldn't understand why. I mean, he had Hiccup and Pitch, but he decided on me. After a while, I was okay with it, because I didn't need to make the tough decisions. If I was going to screw up, I could count on him and Neve to stop me, like a safety net. I wasn't the top dog, but I could tell the top dog if he was making a bad call, or back him up if it was a good one. Just enough responsibility."

Anna watched him closely, absorbing every word. "Now they're gone. I'm the one everyone's looking to, and there's no-one to catch me if I fall. I've got to make the big calls, and I don't think I can describe how royally _screwed_ I think I am."

Her hand instinctively went to rest on his and squeezed. He didn't pull away - she took that as progress. "Jack, my husband made you his XO because he wanted to. You know Kristoff; he never did things without a reason that made sense. He thought you were leadership material."

He turned to look at her, and she flinched slightly. His eyes were puffy and red, and the trails of something that had long fallen adorned his inflamed cheeks. "Leadership of what, Anna? The Ghosts are pulling apart when we should be unified, and my only chance at proving Kozmotis wrong was shot down when Unity decided we'll never see _Sanctuary_ again."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He looked away. "I had a plan... well, _part_ of a plan. When the funeral was over, I was going to get hold of a fuel cell so we could use the _Fairy_ again, then take us all back home where we could wait for Unity and the Alliance to wipe each other out. That way, we could still be with our friends." His eyes moved, and he cast a bitter look at the veiled snowfall. "This afternoon, Unity stepped up their border security for the foreseeable future, so as soon as we cross their sensor lines, they'll be on us quicker than Toothless can fart. Anna... we're never going home."

Strangely, his statement didn't affect her as much as she thought it should. "Can I be honest with you, Jack?"

"Sure."

She smiled. "Going home was never really an option."

He gave her an odd look. "You see," Anna continued, "I wanna be somewhere, where I can make a difference. That's not at _Sanctuary._ That's here. Hiding was never my strong suit - after all, that's how you and those A.A.S-holes found me, remember?"

Jack snorted slightly. "I remember."

"Good. Here's the thing," she said. "It doesn't matter how it happened, you are a leader now. So, lead. Become who my husband thought you could be. Who we all think you can be."

Jack looked away, unconvinced. It wasn't how she wanted to break the news, but she knew it was time to bring out the big guns. "Jack, I need you. The team needs you. The baby... needs you."

Jack's head whipped around. He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Th... the baby?"

She smiled at him, though it was a bittersweet curl. "Yeah. I'm pregnant. I... wanted you to be the first to know... but Pitch kinda worked it out first. Sorry about that. Anyway... surprise!"

His face did away with its prior chain of pained, thoughtful, unconvinced and then stupefied expressions, and settled on elated. "Congratulations, firecracker!" Without warning, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a one-armed hug. She gasped, initially taken aback by the surprise gesture especially considering how sullen he was up to that point, but quickly melted into the embrace. "I'm happy for you. Kristoff…" he trailed off, and it was that combined with what came next that sent a shock of pain through her heart, "he'd be over the moon."

"He would," she whispered, "and it kills me he will not be around for his child... but I've gotta think about its future. My baby's gonna need a positive male influence in his life, they're gonna need a father figure. Or a crazy uncle, whichever. Will you…. be their godfather?"

He squeezed her shoulders. It was a non-verbal answer as clear as day. She closed her eyes and smiled, just as he made the answer official. "You just opened Pandora's box, Anna. Of course I will. Anything for you and the kid."

She pulled away, just enough to beam and wrap her arms around his neck. "Thanks," she said. "They'll grow up with all the snowmen they could ever ask for."

"Don't forget the snowball fights," Jack pointed out, mouth partially buried in the fabric of her cloak.

"Can't forget them."

A heaviness clawed at her heart, tempering the buoyant cheer in her chest that was warming her faster than a fire ever could. Jack had already gone from awkward and cold to cheery and huggy, and she felt undeserving of it. So much had been said, but so much remained to be said. She pulled away and gazed into his eyes whilst she held his right hand. "I'm so sorry for how I treated you."

"Anna…" he began, but she held up a hand.

"Please, I need to say this," she implored him. His brow furrowed and his mouth opened to issue a rebuttal, but the pleading expression she wore seemed to give him pause. He closed his eyes and nodded. "Thank you," she said. "You and I are best friends. We're so close. When I was in hell, you were trying to be there for me. You knocked on my door, and I shut you out. I screamed at you, I wanted to hurt you... when I should have been letting you in. I blamed you for something you had no control over, and I will never forgive myself for blaming you for the deaths of my husband and Neve. You were just trying to be my best friend, and I rewarded you for that by hurting you so much, and that's on _me_. I'm not even going to say it was the pregnancy hormones, or the grief. I shouldn't have done it, and I am so, so sorry."

She frowned, holding back the emotions raging inside her. "Can you ever forgive me?"

He chuckled under his breath, a nasal chuckle that accompanied the wry lift of the corner of his lips. "Funny thing about that," he said, "but I think I already forgave you the moment I landed in New Burgess, and stayed in the house we rescued you from. I guess I needed time."

She gave him an odd look, though she couldn't deny the relief that flooded through her. "You mean that? After all that happened?"

He quirked his lips sideways and looked off in the distance with an expression of mock thought on his face. She was so focused on whether he was being sincere or not, that she didn't notice how his right hand moved behind his back, nor the mischievous smirk growing. "We-ell... there is one way you could make it up to me. We could do something we haven't done in months."

"What's that?" she asked, just as his right hand moved.

She didn't have time to react before he smooshed a snowball in her face. Releasing his hand, she shrieked in surprise, and the powder - melting quickly thanks to her higher-than-normal body temperature - dropped into her gaping mouth. It wouldn't have been anywhere near as bad had she expected it, but nevertheless she froze, completely taken out of left field.

Then she heard a victorious cackle, and a scramble of feet away from her. She wiped away the melting snow with a stiff hand and shot him the chilliest of glares as he jogged light footedly about in the pile of snow.

"You!" she hissed, fending off the shivers, "you... you... just squashed a snowball into the face of a pregnant woman!"

Jack cackled, doubling over in laughter. "I've got a…" he paused to catch his breath, "good four months before I feel guilty about it! Oh boy." Wiping tears away from his eyes, the infernal smirk widened across his lips as he straightened up, and gestured at the carpet of white around him. "But if you wanna punish me, there's plenty of ammo around!"

A playful, vengeful look crossed her face. A sly grin curled her lips. She stood, ignoring the steam of the melted snow evaporating from her face. She stalked toward him, ducking to scoop a handful of snow. "Oh, I'm gonna punish you, alright! C'mere!"

The snowball fight that ensued was vicious, frenetic, full of childish glee and laughter, and took no prisoners, with Anna claiming final victory over a fallen, laughing Jack covered in splodges of white - and in their fun, neither of them noticed that the snowstorm had long stopped raging.

* * *

_Time: 20:55_

The conversation and reconciliation had left Jack as feeling as light as the air he and Anna _would_ have floated on, had she not requested that they make the journey back by foot. "I know it's five miles away," she had said, "but I just wanna ride out this good feeling a little longer."

Jack had agreed. If he had to be honest with himself, he done too much flying over the past week. Besides, having Anna's arms hooked around his and her head against his upper arm as they walked and talked, reminiscing about Neve, Kristoff, and exploits the team had gotten up to? It felt good.

They had walked about half the distance when Anna brought up something he hadn't expected, and admittedly put him on the spot - because if he thought he and Anna had issues up until that point, they were nothing compared to another.

"So," she said in an attempt to sound breezy and indifferent, "you saw my sister, huh?"

Jack looked down through the corner of his eye in puzzlement, and back up over the field they were walking through. "Yeah."

He heard a loud breath and felt a slight squeeze of his arm. "What was she like?"

Jack's mind automatically made a translation: _My sister on the Star was a world away from my sister before she isolated herself, and she could well have been a completely different sister when you were pointing a gun at her._

He gave her a noncommittal answer - he wasn't sure where she was going with it, and after a particularly excellent snowball fight, didn't much fancy darkening the mood. "She was pretty." Shallow, physical appreciation ought to do it... and she truly was pretty.

"Anything else?"

"Is there a reason you're asking?" said Jack.

Anna sighed. "I don't know." Her voice was uncertain, like she was talking about a door she wasn't sure she wanted to open.

Jack glanced down at her again, and his gaze lingered on the top of her head, where strawberry blonde was faultlessly parted by a line of skin to form twin braids, the streak of white mingling with the right one. She really was short. Maybe it was the inevitable time to relay the conversation.

"She was scared."

"Of what?"

"Of us thinking she wanted the Purge to happen. She said she never meant for it to happen like that," Jack explained. He heard a light, bitter scoff from his left.

"But she meant for everything up to the ship blowing up to happen." Heat blossomed around Jack's arm as soon as she spoke. He consciously attempted to cool the area down. "She was fine with people being hurt, being scared. Fine with trying to kill you."

Jack chuckled. "Doesn't really help her case, does it?"

Anna said nothing.

Jack exhaled through his nose. They had to be getting close to home by now. He was starting to wish they _had_ flown back; conversations like that where he was effectively a facsimile, a ghost for the person she _really_ needed answers from left him feeling awkward and helpless. "She said she knows the truth about what happened."

"And do you believe her?"

Jack wasn't sure how to answer that. His mind said it was possible, but his heart spoke with four different voices: Shrek's, Kristoff's, Belle's and Neve's. So he was silent. Images of Emma floated to his mind instead, of her face during the argument he had with his mother in the hours before he bloomed. It was a painful memory he had tried to block out for years, one that still wracked him with guilt. "I don't know if I do, either," Anna said.

The faintest lights hovered in the dark far ahead. Lights that didn't move, glowing in specific places in the curtain of black. Home was within sight.

"She asked me to give you a message," he said. The part of him that cried out for his sister was twinging faintly. Anna gave a noncommittal hum, her unspoken way of asking him to continue. He took a long, deep breath through his nose - what was about to follow, he had no way to predict.

"She asked me to tell you that she loves you."

Anna was remarkably silent. He felt a sudden spike of heat on his arm in addition to a tighter squeeze, and heard the catch of her breath, but no words left her lips. It faintly bemused him, but neither he nor anyone could understand what it was like to be on opposing sides of a battle line with one's own sibling, especially one who had committed such acts as Elsa. He had no idea what it was like to be Anna at that moment.

"I'm tired," she said after a long, _long_ period of silence, with a voice that sounded strained, "and I've had a pretty good evening. Can we talk about something else, please?"

Jack's eyes fell to the floor in thought. Maybe even Anna didn't know what it was like to be Anna.

"Sure."


	36. Sleeping Beauty (For the Fallen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark chapter, with body horror. May be tough to read, depending on reader.

" **Sleeping Beauty (For the Fallen)"**

 

_Location: Snowfield House_

_Date: December 4th, 2073_

_Time: 09:26_

'What are we going to do?' was one of those annoyingly vague questions covering a multitude of contexts, each one ranging from the choice between a holo-movie and a museum visit, to being pinned down by enemy fire, surrounded and out of options. The trivial to the life-defining.

Rapunzel's question to the room existed on the latter end of the spectrum. Thirty minutes until the hover-car arrived to carry them to the _Staging Ground,_ and she'd picked that moment to ask it. Elsa couldn't fault her too much; there was no way in hell they'd risk such a question surrounded by the military. She was, however, content to listen to the conversation unfold whilst lost in thought.

"... about?" Astrid asked slowly from the corner of the sofa, glass of water in her right hand.

Rapunzel glanced at her and shrugged. "Us. The Ghosts. Unity. Supreme Commander Henrik. All of it." When Astrid said nothing, she added, "Everything we thought was the truth has been turned on its head. I think we need to get our bearings."

Elsa's jaw clenched. Supreme Commander Henrik Larsen was a name she had tried to put at the back of her mind. It was one thing to chase after and wrongly attempt to kill a member of a resistance team, it was quite another to _rightly_ attempt to kill someone who ranked just below the Unifier in importance. Avenging her parents wasn't viable in any way, shape or form; he was too powerful. Too well-protected.

Even if she tried, she'd likely die in the attempt - and the thought of dying without seeing her sister again terrified her. It didn't stop the helplessness from taunting her though.

"What makes ye think the Ghosts'll want anything ta do with us?" Merida pointed out, perched on the edge of the sofa's opposite side. "From what Elsa told us, it sounds like Frost wasnae interested in anything she had ta say, and I reckon she was lucky ta come away unscathed. Might nae happen again."

"Maybe…" Rapunzel offered lamely, "Maybe they'll understand."

Merida frowned. "How'd ye figure that, lass?"

"Well... we didn't know that Hans was gonna blow up their ship, we didn't know what was gonna happen to the other teams. If they realise... if they understand that we had to follow orders, maybe they'll-"

"No."

All eyes turned to Elsa, whose face was taut with determination and purpose as she stared unblinkingly at the floor, her arms folded while she leaned on the wall. Rapunzel was right in a manner of speaking, and she knew it, but pedantry and optimism would not cut it - especially in the eyes of the Ghosts.

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked, leaning forward in interest.

Elsa pushed herself off the wall and laced her hands together behind her back. "We need to take responsibility, not absolve ourselves of it. No, we didn't expect or want the Purge to happen, for all those people to die. No, we didn't know what the Inquisitors would do to the other teams. It doesn't matter. We still captured their friends and our boots were the first on the _Guardian Star's_ deck. We still physically injured them. We need to make it right. I don't know how, and I don't know if we'll even succeed, but we have to try - and the first step is accepting that even if we didn't pull the trigger, we still had a role in it. To do otherwise is a lie."

"You know," Astrid remarked as she relaxed back into Elsa's sofa, "you've gone up about six notches in my book for that."

"What does that take me to?"

"Six," Astrid deadpanned, and gestured to Rapunzel. "But it still doesn't answer Flower-Girl's question. What are we going to do?"

"I'll be doing what I was going to do ever since I started training: when my Valkyrie tour of duty ends next week, I will hand in my retirement papers. Then, I intend to search every single building in Unity territory for my sister, and spend the rest of my life making it right."

Astrid gave her an odd look, halfway between a sneer and a bemused gape. "What, you wanna ally with them?"

Elsa smiled and looked away - such an opportunity, while about as likely as her parents' spontaneous resurrection, would be welcome. "If they would have me." She sighed and adjusted the position of her feet to the standard _at-ease_ position. "However, I will do this alone - I can't ask any of you to come with me. You all have your own lives to return to after when you retire. Your own families."

She looked up at her team just in time to see Astrid purse her lips and look away.

"But tha's nuts!" Merida said, lifting an arm in protest. "We have no idea where they're hiding; it could take ye months, _years_ ta find 'em - and that's _if_ ye do!"

"It's either that," Elsa said as she gestured toward the stairwell, "or I sit here, alone in my house, reinforcing Anna's already low opinion of me. There's no contest. I have to do it."

Rapunzel looked deeply anxious. Painfully so. She knitted her brow and lamely pointed at Elsa. "You can't do it alone."

Elsa opened her mouth, hoping it would be the last sentence she needed to speak to convince Rapunzel that she was going ahead with it whether she liked it or not, but Astrid beat her to the punch, and in the most surprising way possible.

"She won't be alone."

Elsa was floored, and any hope of masking her utter astonishment went out of the window. She stared, dumbfounded. "What?"

Astrid shrugged indifferently. She took a sip of her water and scrutinised it. "I've got nothing planned. I can come with you."

The sigh that Elsa let loose wasn't intended to be patronising, but she sensed Astrid perceived it that way, judging by the look of death she subsequently received. She had intended to go it alone precisely to not involve the Valkyries, in case the Ghosts decided to skip the trial stage and go straight to the execution. Her own death she was fine with provided she saw Anna before her end, but she was adamant it would be hers and not anyone else's. "Astrid," she attempted diplomatically, "I can't put you in that position. Your family-"

Astrid's interruption was harsh and carried with it a stream of bitterness so sharp it made Elsa flinch. "-is not something I want to talk about," she snapped, glaring. "Do you want me to help or not?"

Elsa looked at Rapunzel for an explanation - based on _that_ response, she was about as inclined to agree as Anna was to spontaneously proclaim the renewal of their sibling relationship. Rapunzel looked away, startled by the vehemence in Astrid's tone, and more than a few glances were cast her way. Merida rubbed her left temple with visible exasperation, but Astrid's scowl hadn't dropped in the slightest. "Family…" Rapunzel began awkwardly, "is kind of a sore spot for Astrid."

Elsa swallowed and nibbled her lips. Eyeing Astrid warily, she decided. "I would welcome the company," she said, "provided this situation isn't repeated."

Astrid's eyes didn't even move, nor did she miss a beat. "If my family isn't brought up again, it won't be. Besides," she downed the rest of the glass and whacked it down on a nearby table, "if I'm certain I can trust you, then I'll introduce you to a friend of mine that might make our search a lot easier."

"What friend is that?" Merida asked, frowning.

"A personal one," Astrid said in a clipped tone as she abruptly stood, deepening Merida's frown along with causing a flash of hurt across her face. It was clear she would brook no more questions. "So, you interested?"

Slowly, Elsa nodded. She wasn't sure she was comfortable with Astrid's help, but she would be lying if she said the help wasn't welcome. Rapunzel had taught her much of solidarity versus solitude and scouring the entirety of Unity territory would be lonely. Not to mention it would be far less boring.

"Good," Astrid said, moving to stand beside her. "I've got a lot of wrongs I need to make right, and like you said, it's not gonna happen if I sit on my ass."

Elsa dipped her head once in respect, but as she did, she took a glance at Merida. The brave woman's head was bowed, her curls cascading over her shoulders to hide her face. "Are you alright, Merida?" she asked out of concern.

The red locks swayed to and fro. "Not really."

Elsa shot a glare at Astrid, who for a few seconds returned it scowl-for-scowl, until her face betrayed dawning comprehension - and embarrassed shame. "Red," she said, "look - I'm sorry I snapped-"

"It's not that, Astrid." A hand dove into the mess of hair just as Elsa heard a sniff, before her soft voice spoke, "It's that I cannae come with ye."

"I never expected you to," Elsa said.

Merida looked up, and amidst welling eyes, her face wore a mask of what looked like grief and shame. "But I'm supposed ta, ain't I? This is a sisterhood, we help each other with their problems, but... I cannae do it. Not anymore."

Rapunzel clucked and quickly went to sit by her and stroke her shoulder. "Harvester really did a number on you, didn't he?"

Merida snorted bitterly. "Aye, he did." Another sniff, and a wipe of her finger under her nose. "That night, I found out just how close ta death I was - so when we got our leave papers, I was so lookin' forward ta seein' ma family again. Kinda like my reward fer survivin'... but when I got home, it was different. My brothers were five when I left fer trainin', now they're _eight._ I missed _three_ years of them growin' up. Playin' with them. Those are years I cannae get back, and I don't want ta miss any more. Not while I have the chance ta spend time with 'em. I'm sorry."

Elsa sighed, pity in her eyes as she gave her a reassuring smile, but Astrid beat her to the punch, with far more gentleness than anyone expected of her. "Red - we never expected neither you nor Rapunzel to come." When Rapunzel opened her mouth to protest, Astrid held up a discouraging hand, and continued, "The reason it's just gonna be us two, is because we don't have family at home. We have nothing to come back to. You've both got families waiting for you who miss you and love you - Elsa's sister is out there, and my parents couldn't give a shit if I was dead or missing."

Elsa shot her an odd look and gently chastised her. "A little more blunt than I would have put it," she said, and then looked at Merida, "but Astrid is correct. If there was a choice between your company and your happiness, then it's not even a choice at all. But if you want me to," she smiled wryly, "I can make it an order."

Merida chuckled lightly and sniffed once more. "Nah, yer all right. Thanks, girls."

"Don't mention it." Elsa looked at each of them and forced a bright expression. "Well, I don't think it'll be long until the hover-car gets here to take us to the _Staging Ground,_ so if you'll excuse me I'm going to take one last look around the house. Maybe spend some time in Anna's room - I have a suspicion this will be the last time I ever set foot in these walls, and I intend to commit as much of this place to memory as I can."

She knew she wouldn't be coming back. She decided, one way or another, that day would be the last day a Snowfield would live in Snowfield House.

* * *

 

_Location: Staging Ground_

  
_Time: 17:25_

Elsa grumbled under her breath as she made her way down the concrete-grey corridor toward the shooting range and debated visiting the quartermaster for a new wrist-com bracelet. The infernal contraption had been vibrating irregularly, and despite her best efforts to find out whether she was receiving a call from one of her team members elsewhere on the base, the silver band had been remarkably and irritatingly reluctant to behave.

Groaning through gritted teeth, her eyes rose to heaven when she had enough. She yanked up the sleeve and pulled the device up to her face, glaring angrily at it. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you _want_ me to tag you for recycling?"

It was then she noticed something she had previously missed, and it was only because of the slightly dimmer lights of the _Valkyrie Quarter_ that she caught it - a faint blue light just off centre of the band. It was a visual notification of a text-only message, rarely used but an option installed just in case. It had been so long since that function had been used, Elsa forgot it existed. "Display message," she said to the bracelet.

The centre obeyed, and a small beam of light not unlike the holographic projector of the Uni-Com or her briefing table appeared - and in the middle of the blue field, letters flickered into existence in a haphazard and disjointed format. Not unlike-

_eLsA_

"Aurora," she breathed. So much had happened since the hacking of her Uni-Com, the unnerving experience had largely faded from her memory, especially since she took the Uni-Com's word for it that it was nothing more than a hacker trying to be clever. Now, it seemed, this person was more determined to get hold of her - and that they were right, nothing was as it seemed. "Aurora," she repeated blankly.

_yEs_

Who could also understand her, apparently. Elsa quickly looked behind her - the corridor was largely empty save for three officers immersed in light conversation, passing her on their way to the shooting range. She angled her back toward them, seeking to hide the potentially suspicious communication - then again, a Valkyrie facing a wall was bound to look weird. "Who are you?"

_fINd mE_

Elsa blinked. "Wha-what? Find you... where _are_ you?"

_BEHinD thE DoOR yoU aLwaYs wAnted tO OPen_

_slEEpiNG BeauTY_

She took a quiet but ragged gasp - the one door in the _Valkyrie Quarter_ she wasn't allowed to go through, _another_ locked door in her life. The one with _SLEEPING BEAUTY INTERFACE, AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY_ inscribed on it. Her heart raced with tense excitement; she always wanted to know what lay beyond that door, and the _what_ was increasingly looking like a _who._ Her head swiveled left and right, checking to see if the coast was clear. With no-one to her left, and the three officers far away enough to not be considered a risk, Elsa pulled her sleeve back over the bracelet and went back the way she came, stopping once at the corner. She peered round; two logistics officers in their grey boiler-suits stood by a wooden crate continued to debate the proper way to pack a stun rifle as they had done when she passed by a few minutes ago. Periodically one would reach into the crate and flip a rifle onto its back, and the other would immediately turn it over again. Elsa waited, with her breath coming thick and fast, until one of them picked up the rifle and slammed it down. With a sharp gasp she darted across the room whilst the second grumbled something rude and turned it back, and without thinking she pushed down on the handle and slipped inside.

The first thing that hit her was the complete reversal in illumination. Whereas the corridor outside was fairly well lit, her surroundings were blanketed in murky darkness, the only light radiating from a pitifully weak sequence of gold strip-lights on either side of her, where floor met wall. She waited while her eyes adjusted, and after a minute she picked out thick cables that sprouted out of the walls either side, held neatly together by large metal tidies in equidistant spacing, and as she looked up, she discerned the faint outline of a security camera.

Her eyes widened, and her stomach dropped when the implication hit. Someone could have seen her enter. Rooted to the spot, she knew that any second now, base security troops would come thundering through the door and catch her where she couldn't go. Then would come the questions, and whatever Aurora wanted for her would be a moot point.

The bracelet vibrated, abrupt enough to make her start. Biting her lip, she yanked her sleeve back and peered at the message.

_cAmeRA on Loop. SaFE._

Elsa closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief that came out as more of a whimper.

_foLLow ThE liGhts_

The striplights either side pulsed in a line, accompanied by a gentle _hum._ Pulling the sleeve back down, Elsa warily and slowly moved in the direction the lights were leading her, eyes picking apart the dark ahead for any sign of... _anything._ The metal plates rattled under her feet, even with her careful steps, and the sound echoed throughout wherever the hell she thought she was. To say it was unnerving for her was an understatement.

She knew she was going the right way, and it was a thought reinforced by how the striplights went off in opposite directions to form a wide circle, and the blinking to life of a dozen miniature glass Uni-Com screens ahead. She tilted her head; such disconcerting surroundings for a mere handful of Uni-Coms? It didn't seem right. She continued on toward them, occasionally checking behind her in case someone had sneaked up on her, until she was a few feet away from the screens. Each one read ' _AWAITING DATA INPUT'_ in slowly pulsing white letters over a light blue background.

She read it out loud. "Awaiting data input." She frowned at the banal truth behind the door kept secret. "What data do you need inputting?"

"My dreams."

Elsa cursed aloud in fright and whirled around to the source of the feminine voice.

Taking two steps back she stared, open mouthed and stunned.

The woman gazed back. Golden blonde hair that framed a healthy pink face and a gentle smile. Dark blue eyes that saw her, yet gave Elsa a chill as though she was looking _through_ her. Against the dull grey metal walls, thick pipe systems and bright yet pitifully useless lights, her pink off-shoulder dress stood out like a rose in a ruined building. So out of place. A vision in sunlight, against the dark of night.

And when she spoke, she spoke with a thousand voices, like the eerie voice of a legion.

"I am Sleeping Beauty."

Elsa tried to speak, but no words would dare come. Neither would her breath; whether it was due to fright or that an elegantly dressed woman just magically appeared behind her, she wasn't sure... not that it mattered.

"It is good to finally meet you," Sleeping Beauty said.

Elsa blinked, still bereft of the ability to speak. What was once banal, became surreal. "Um…" she forced out with a croaky voice, "... likewise."

Sleeping Beauty's eyes crinkled slightly, and her smile widened an inch. "You are nervous. Why?"

"Erm," Elsa stammered, "well, it's probably something to do with you appearing out of thin air, and speaking like hundred people all saying the same thing at the same time. You know. That might have something to do with it."

What she said seemed to have an effect, but not one she liked; Sleeping Beauty's face fell, and her eyes went to the floor in ashamed apology. "I am sorry. I realise this must be unsettling for you - I must confess, it is the same for me. I rarely get visitors, much less ones I can communicate with."

Elsa cocked an eyebrow. "Right…" She cast her eyes around the room, hoping to distract herself from the surreal and ground herself in reality. Faintly illuminated by the lights, she stood on a large circular dais, slightly elevated from the surrounding floor. Pipes set into the dais travelled toward the centre and burrowed down into either side of a long rectangle impression in the floor. It was murky, oppressive, and Elsa couldn't understand why anyone would be down here. Something that prompted her to blurt, "Forgive me for being blunt but... why did you want me to come here?"

Sleeping Beauty looked up at her, but the shame held sway in her ethereal features. Shame, and what looked suspiciously like guilt. "I must make a request of you. Something I would not ask you to do were I not so desperate."

Elsa instantly looked at her. "What do you want me to do?"

Pink hands went up to her chest and fiddled with each other. Sleeping Beauty's lip found its way between her teeth. "Before I ask you - I need you to understand why I need your help. May I show you something?"

Elsa's head turned an inch, though her eyes narrowed a touch. "Okay…"

Sleeping Beauty thanked her, and a hand directed her to a small silver disc under her feet with the suggestion she lift it, and turn the handle under it ninety degrees clockwise. Frowning, Elsa complied with her recommendation and knelt down, all the while wondering why Sleeping Beauty didn't do it herself. Her fingers lifted the circular hatch, grasped the grooved handle and twisted it as directed.

She recoiled in surprise as steam burst with an angry hiss from the corners of the rectangular impression. The floor vibrated under her thanks to a series of metallic groans and clanks, which preceded the appearance of a thin line of light bisecting the rectangle. Oddly, it reminded her of the _Hammer's_ launch bay doors, a notion reinforced by the rectangle splitting apart with a protracted scraping. The two panels pulled away from each other and receded into their housing much like a door, and a second before they were hidden completely, a three-dimensional iron grey rectangle not unlike a casket slowly rose before her eyes. With a regular clanking like the turning of cogs, the object continued to lift until it abruptly ceased before her with a dull thump.

Elsa blinked and stared at it with a blank expression. Even in the age of technological advancement, it wasn't exactly something she saw every day. "What is this?" she asked quietly, unable to take her eyes off it. Sleeping Beauty's answer only added to the questions and brought a measure of insidious discomfort.

"Me."

Elsa frowned with ill-hidden surprise. " _What?"_

Sleeping Beauty said nothing, but the finger she pointed at a small circular button was all the clarification Elsa didn't know she needed. Nervous, but with enough curiosity to kill a batch of cats, Elsa leaned forward and pushed it with a slightly trembling finger. Obediently, the top surface of the object split into four sections, and with a good deal more speed than the floor hatch, rotated ninety degrees in opposite directions and moved down to the object's sides, flush against its surface.

Tension in her breathing thanks to an oddly tight chest, Elsa timidly peered inside - and covered her mouth in gasping horror when she realised exactly _why_ it reminded her of a casket. There was a woman _inside_ it.

Her arms were crossed over her chest with her hands on her shoulders. Dirty blonde hair cascaded like a dishevelled oily mess from her scalp, but there were patches where hair no longer grew. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her dull nails were raggedly manicured. She smelled of faint body odour, and her lips were ghostly white. She was naked, with only her arms covering her breasts and a faded grey strip of material hiding her nether regions. What turned Elsa's stomach and caused her to try _so_ hard not to throw up was not the state of the poor woman - it was what she was attached to. She was intubated with a plastic pipe burrowing into her mouth. The backs of her hands sported cannulas, and further tubes protruded from under the cloth, all of which led into the base of the 'casket'. The worst part, however, were the six thin cables attached to her head, which Elsa didn't initially notice thanks to the overgrowing hair. Slowly, she leaned over whilst keeping her hand over her mouth, which turned out to be a sensible idea when a closer look revealed the cables were literally _in_ her skull, due to scarring around the penetration sites.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she uttered in a strangled voice, but fought hard not to prove the statement true. Still, she tore herself away and heaved. "Fucking _hell._ " She panted, waiting for the retching to subside. "How... who would _do_ something like that?"

"Unity."

Elsa's head swivelled, and she stared at Sleeping Beauty with an incredulous expression. The woman's eyes, however, remained fixed upon the inert woman in the 'casket', seeing but not _seeing_ her, with numbness etched on her face. "W-what?" Elsa mumbled.

Sleeping Beauty did not answer. Elsa's eyes danced between the two women, back and forth, until it finally clicked. She said the casket was _her,_ but it was the person inside it she was referring to. Which meant-

"You're a hologram."

It explained the slight glow to her body, and how the colour of her skin, hair and clothing wasn't dimmed by her surroundings, and how her voice sounded so strange. The dark blue eyes suddenly snapped to meet Elsa's gaze, abruptly enough to make her breath catch. "Yes," she answered. "Forgive me for my silence," she said as she looked back at the woman in the 'casket', "I am having what could be defined as an out-of-body experience. The person you see in there is me, but the person you speak to now is who I _used_ to be - at least, I hope so. I am... I _was..._ called Aurora."

Elsa straightened up. She took a step toward her. "How did you come to be in there?"

Aurora studied her for a moment. "I was eighteen when it happened. Mama, Papa and I were eating dinner, when I passed out. I woke up a week later, and the doctors could not tell me why, but they had noticed after several scans that my brain was more active than they had previously seen, especially during sleep. However, they saw no danger to my health, so I was sent home with my family."

Aurora didn't move a single inch as she talked, though had Elsa not been so rapt with attention, she would have put it down to a hologram having no need for idle movement. "It wasn't long before the pain started. Sharp, excruciating migraines that felt like my head was on fire - but with the pain, came images. Videos in my head of people I had never met. People who lived in places I had never visited, yet somehow I saw them as clear as day. I saw them as they underwent the transition, from human to something else. Something... greater."

A transition. It could only mean one thing. "You're an abnormal…" Elsa breathed.

Aurora nodded, slowly but resolutely. Her eyes didn't move from the 'casket', not once. "Yes. It took me some time to understand, but when I saw a good friend being taken away, and remembered I had seen them in my visions, I realised I was seeing people as they bloomed, that somehow we were connected for those moments."

"And Unity found out," Elsa murmured, her stomach sinking.

"Yes," Aurora said. "I am not sure how they found out. They came for me in the night, with their guns and their hate. They knocked Papa unconscious, pinned Mama to the ground and dragged me away. I kicked, and I screamed, but they were too many. I was stuffed into a truck, and as we drove away, they forced a sedative into me." Her eyes slowly moved to meet Elsa's. "That night was the last time I was awake, and that was fifty-three years ago."

Jaw met with floor, and defying the limits of imagination, Elsa's situation became all the more surreal. "F-fifty-three years?" she sputtered. "Could you... repeat that?"

Aurora looked back up at her, and her expression of loss and sadness did wonders at dissipating Elsa's bewilderment. "I have been in this room with no-one to talk to for over five decades."

In an instant, Elsa's isolation in her room felt insignificant in comparison. She had a luxury room with a comfortable bed, a miniature Uni-Com for Media Stream newscasts and entertainment shows, an education regime and plenty of holo-books. Aurora... her situation couldn't even be comprehended. Stuck in a tiny rectangular box, asleep for over five decades - Elsa tried to imagine what it would be like, but it _terrified_ her. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth and fought the very seductive urge to cry for her.

And strangely, she didn't look like someone who _should_ have been in their early seventies. She didn't look a day over twenty-five.

"W-w-why?" she mumbled, for no greater strength could be added to her voice.

"When people bloom, I see it. I see where they are, but I do not know the location. So Unity keep me permanently sedated and administer regular doses of vitamins and fluids to keep me alive whilst my brain is probed. When I have a vision, it appears on those screens, which Unity uses to find and capture new abnormals." She snorted, a bitter sound sharp as a blade. "I am responsible for their suffering and terror - and I have no control over it. I see, they see."

Elsa took a step back as a fresh wave of fear crashed down on her. "You-"

"Yes," Aurora said. "I see _every_ bloom. I have seen your sister's."

Her head turned, and their eyes met. Elsa flinched.

"And I have seen _yours."_

Elsa's flinch became an obvious recoil. She shook her head in denial, "No," she murmured. "No, no, no! You're lying!"

Aurora didn't move an inch, but the words she spoke brought Elsa's world down. "You were in your room, talking to your boyfriend over the Uni-Com. You were telling him about your day, and about how you were looking forward to being in his arms the day after, when you felt a strange sensation on your hand, like it had been buried in snow. You then looked down at your hand, and that was when you saw frost creeping over your skin. Your eyes widened in terror, and you saw how the comforter on your bed was covered in ice that spread from your other hand. You felt pain, so much pain in your body, and when you looked to your boyfriend on the screen, you cried for his help. You said ' _help me!'_ but he wouldn't. He looked at you like you were a monster and said-"

"Abby freak…" Elsa finished in a broken whisper.

A lone tear welled in her left eye and slid down her cheek, and she hugged her chest as though to drive away the pain. The memory of seeing her boyfriend's face, twisted by fear and disgust as he called her a freak stabbed like a dagger in her heart. She had never felt more isolated in her life, at least in that moment. "I needed him. I was so scared, I needed him and he left me."

Elsa involuntarily thought back to that moment, and everything that came after it. Being abandoned in such a way by someone she thought she loved led to a distrust of anyone with their reproductive organs on the outside, and only after Hans had taken care of her over the course of her Valkyrie training did she trust him. Maybe that was why she believed so readily that Frost had killed her parents - he was a man, and men took away her dignity, so it wasn't a stretch to believe that men could take her parents.

Recent events proved to her how wrong she was, with ruthless clarity.

Aurora nodded. "He ended the call, and that was when your father burst into the room." She tilted her head and frowned. "I do not recall seeing anything after that."

Sniffing, Elsa wiped under her nose with a finger whilst staring at the edge of the grey casket, lost in painful memory. "He injected me with a sedative. When I awoke, he told me that the house's temperature sensors had registered a sudden drop in my room. He realised what had happened, so while I was asleep he injected me with his experimental suppression vaccine. I've been using it ever since, but in pills."

"You did not complete your bloom?"

Elsa shook her head. "No."

"Interesting." Aurora turned her head back to the casket. "You are not the first. There was another."

That time, Elsa looked up. "Who?"

"I do not know. All I remember is ice, and water. It was cold, it was dark, and he was _terrified."_

Elsa frowned. She couldn't possibly mean Frost, could she? It was vague as vague could be, with drowning claiming any number of people, but still, it aroused an itch in her mind. One threatening to become distracting, so she forced out a question she wasn't sure she wanted answered. She cleared her throat, attracting Aurora's attention. "How... how are you communicating with me?"

It seemed like something so common, yet when Aurora smiled in response, it was like all the sadness and numb grief on her face was washed away. "The same way I sent you those messages - I have been connected to the system for so long, I _am_ the system - though I cannot prevent them taking my visions from me. It took nearly forty years, but I learned how to communicate and how to hack - though both are incredibly mentally taxing. It is the same for my holographic body." She gestured toward the six screens. "I have been connected to those Uni-Coms for some time, so I was able to utilise their projection system. I can see and speak with you... but only with my mind. My eyes have not seen light for a long time."

Aurora's eyes fell, and she inhaled a deep breath that sounded suspiciously like she was preparing herself. "Which leads me to my request - and I understand that it is one I have no right to ask you."

"What would you have me do?" Elsa asked softly.

Aurora looked up, steadily held her gaze, and was silent for a moment, until-

"I wish to die."

Elsa took a sharp breath. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. "No. You can't ask that of me. I've killed enough people."

"Elsa," Aurora said whilst waving a hand over the casket, "I showed you this, because I wanted you to understand - this is my life. My body is dead, but my mind is alive. I still feel pain. I want to scream, but I have no mouth. I want to move, but my limbs betray me. My body is a prison, Elsa, a prison I have been trapped in for fifty years. A prison Unity made of me."

Elsa tried to open her mouth, but Aurora continued - and each word was an assault on her heart. "Every day they take from me, but I will have it no longer. I will not be responsible for the terror they inflict on my kind. I will not be a slave to their torment. They took everything from me but my ability to choose - and I choose death." She smiled again, but it was a devious smirk. "Besides, without me it will be much more difficult for them to arrest my kind. My parting gift to my extended family."

Elsa's legs weakened. She reached out for the edge of the casket to steady herself. Her other hand went up to cover her mouth while her eyes screwed shut. "I've killed enough innocent people, I don't want to-" she paused, clenching a loose fist over her lips as she slowly shook her head. Her heart felt like it was breaking apart like soil in the harsh sunlight.

"I am so sorry to ask this of you, Elsa," Aurora murmured regretfully. "If I could do it myself I would, but I cannot control the machine keeping me alive. You are my desperate hope because you know better than anyone else what being in a prison feels like."

Elsa's eyes snapped open. She stared in anguish into the gently smiling, intangible face. "But what you're asking me to do is-"

"To grant me the dignity of choosing my end," Aurora said. "You can give me what I have needed ever since they came for me: peace."

Elsa's mind worked furiously to find other ways, other means of helping Aurora, to avoid what was being asked of her. She thought of disconnecting her from the machine, maybe sneaking her off the base - but her corporeal body looked so frail, so dependent on the machine, the stress would likely kill her anyway. She could leave - but it would mean consigning Aurora to her fate.

She opened her eyes and rested them on the body. Took in the sight of the wires protruding from her head, and the pipes attached to her hands. Her posture of peace, trapped in living death. In that moment, her compassion, her grief, her _rage_ overwhelmed her, and as she decided, she fought hard to swallow down her tears.

"Okay," she whispered.

Aurora let out an audible, broken sigh of relief that sounded like wind howling through a room. "Thank you. Thank you," she rambled. "Thank you, Elsa, so very much."

Elsa held up a hand - she couldn't outright say it, that taking an innocent life felt wrong even if it wanted to be taken, but it wasn't her choice to make. So she forced herself to focus, and as she stared into Aurora's corporeal eyes, she asked, "How do you want me to…" she hesitated, finding it difficult to even speak, "... to do it?"

The edge of her vision was filled with a subtle pink glow as Aurora moved to stand beside her. "There are a few ways, but I understand that the pulse bolt from a pistol set to kill is painless and instantaneous."

Elsa nodded slowly in understanding - being shot by a stun pistol was the most merciful option. Elegant, too. However, an unwelcome thought crossed her mind - what if she was found out? The consequences would be the end of her. Mission: Finding Anna would be in jeopardy. Her head swivelled, and she looked at Aurora with ill-disguised worry. "Won't there be any alarms?" she asked. "Surely when the system registers your death, someone will be notified."

Aurora smiled and shook her head. "I have been planning for this for a long time. When I was not trying to communicate with you, I spent many years creating a program which, when I die, will trick the machine's software into thinking I am still alive for a few more days. Eventually they will find out, but it will not matter. No-one will know of what transpired here."

Elsa made an impressed _hunh._ She really had thought of everything.

"Okay," she whispered. Her right hand left the casket and slowly reached down to unclip her stun pistol from her thigh holster. She sniffed, and gulped. "I'm ready."

"Before you do it, may I offer two pieces of advice?"

Elsa looked up at her holographic form. Her eyes were welling, and she wore a grateful, happy smile. "Sure."

"The first is: trust your team. There is more to them than you know."

Elsa wondered what she meant by that. "And the other?"

Aurora became serious. She pressed her intangible hands together as though pleading. "Find the Ghosts. I do not know why, but I sense the destiny of the Valkyries is inextricably entwined with theirs."

"How?"

"Every one of us is connected in one way or another. I suspect you know this better than most."

Elsa simply nodded - the past half hour had been so full of information it was threatening to overload and numb her mind, so she accepted Aurora's words without question. The _last_ thing she wanted, for what she was about to do, was to be unfeeling. Aurora deserved someone to feel pain for her, to feel grief and rage, to _remember_ her.

"Okay," she whispered. With a trembling hand, she pointed the stun pistol at Aurora's forehead, activated it and set it to kill with her thumb.

"Goodbye, Elsa," Aurora murmured, "and thank you."

"Goodbye, Aurora," Elsa croaked, and squeezed the trigger.

A small burst of red light burst from the barrel into Aurora's forehead, the _zip_ of its discharge the only sound in an otherwise crushingly silent room. A shaky breath then escaped Elsa's lips, one she was unaware she had been holding ever since she squeezed the trigger. "Aurora?" she whispered. Hoping, _praying_ she had been successful.

Silence greeted her, and when she slowly traced her eyes over to where her holo-form stood, there was nothing but empty space. No golden-blonde hair, nor a pink dress. Elsa whimpered quietly. With a tremulous right hand, she thumbed off the pistol and carefully slipped it back into her holster, whilst her left hand cupped her mouth. It worked; Aurora had finally found her peace. The cupped hand became a loose fist holding back her emotion, and as she looked back at Aurora's lifeless body, she reached into the casket with her left hand and stroked the right side of her face, cool and clammy under her fingertips. "Now you're free," she whispered, as two hot tears slipped past the dam in her eyes and traced their way down her cheeks.

There was a beeping from her wrist bracelet, visible on her arm thanks to the riding up of her sleeve. In the air, small blue numbers hovered as a digital clock; it was time for the evening meal. In five minutes, the corridor would be deserted as the base's occupants went to the mess hall for their food - at least for a few minutes further, whilst the next shift rotated in.

Of course, she wasn't hungry in the least. All she wanted to do was run to her quarters, hide in her shower, and _crumble._

* * *

 

_Location: Unknown_

  
_Time: 20:00_

 

As they walked the short distance enveloped in chilly darkness and clad in their uniforms, only a dozen yards from the farmhouse, Jack felt Anna's grip tighten around his arm. Kristoff's mask was hidden under her cloak, looped around her left forearm, whilst in his pocket he fingered and fiddled with Neve's headband. Each step toward the four crucifixes planted in the ground around the back of the farmhouse, softly illuminated by a burning torch next to each one, felt like inevitability. A journey they _all_ had to make, which if Jack had time or patience to _really_ think on it, worked on a metaphysical and probably spiritual level.

"I thought I would be ready for this."

Jack looked down at his closest friend and saw the vapor floating away from hers mouth. It was an abnormally cold night, and so even _his_ breath came out in translucent wisps. "No-one ever is," he murmured.

Anna hummed her agreement, and the two continued the short walk in silence. Kozmotis stood waiting for then, with Hiccup and Toothless at his left. Both men wore solemn expressions, but one thing Jack liked about Toothless was that he wore his heart on his scaly paws. Illuminated by the dim glow, his pupils were wide and his ear-nubs were drooping, not unlike a dog's. His head was bowed as were his wings, and Jack could easily pick out the low, sad warbles emanating from the creature's throat. He never had time for being stoic.

Frosty grass crunched under their feet as they came to a stop, with Anna standing between Kozmotis and Jack. Whether that was down to their prior scuffle or which crucifix belonged to whom, Jack didn't know. Nor did he care - nothing like that mattered anymore. However, when he caught Kozmotis' eye, the taller man gave him a respectful nod. Jack returned it and cherished the small sense of relief; the Ghosts had fought each other too much lately.

Jack, like the team had previously agreed they would all do, held his hands over each other and bowed his head, eyes closed while he internally reflected on the people whose crucifixes stood before them. Eugene, whose killer smoulder, cheeky sense of humour, occasionally shaky morality but vast knowledge of hiding places and smooth-talking had saved them more times than he could count. Belle, whose literature classes opened his mind up to a world of words he never thought existed - when he paid attention. Kristoff, whose leadership and bravery had led them to victory over and over again - but for Neve, he found the desire to speak harder and harder to suppress, and in the end let his heart do the talking.

"Neve," he said quietly, though in the silent surroundings even the smallest whisper could be heard, "while you were our leader and our queen, you were also a mother to us all. You took me under your wing, guided and encouraged me like my real mother did, and made me feel like I was part of a family again."

He swallowed down a growing lump in his throat. His forearm felt the warm touch of Anna, who squeezed it in support. He wasn't the only one to whom Neve acted the part of the mother - so Anna knew _exactly_ how sharp the loss felt.

Jack walked forward to Neve's crucifix. With weak limbs, he knelt on one knee, produced her red headband, looped it around the topmost point and securely tied the garment to it. Once he did that, as a sign of respect he held his right fist over his left breast, and bowed his head for a few seconds before standing and returning to his previous spot to wait.

"Kristoff," Anna began with a soft yet cracking voice, but paused to take a deep and strengthening breath, "there's so much I wanted to say to you but don't have the chance, so wherever you are I want you to know - I will always love you, and your child will know just how amazing a man you were. Sleep well, honey."

Anna did the same as Jack; she approached and knelt at Kristoff's crucifix, clipped his mask and goggles around the part where the planks crossed, and held her fist in the same place - but before she rose, she kissed her fingertips and then pressed them against the mouthpiece of his mask. When she returned to where she previously stood, one glance told Jack that with the swallow, repeated blinking and lip-biting, she was doing everything she could to hold her emotions back.

Kozmotis, true to himself, said nothing. He walked with purpose, took a knee in front of Belle's crucifix, slipped a rose under some string Hiccup tied around it earlier in the day, drew his fist across his chest whilst bowing his head much like Anna and Jack, before returning to his place.

"Eugene, you were a cocky, smug, suave pain in the ass, with questionable morality and terrible punctuality - coming from me, that's saying something - but you were a fine cook and a damn good fighter." Hiccup cleared his throat and nodded to himself. "Toothless is gonna miss your grilled fish steaks... and even though you snuck into the hangar bay when I slept and put my fingers in some water - trying to explain to Anna that I don't wet the bed was _hilarious-"_ Jack had to suppress a small chuckle; even he hadn't done that and wished he had, "-I'm still gonna miss you."

Toothless moaned and warbled his agreement when Hiccup finished speaking, his guttural form of speech was wracked with pain and regret. Once Hiccup had planted the handle of a frying pan into the ground, mimicked the sign of respect across his chest and returned to the team, Jack watched as he scratched behind Toothless' ear nubs, murmuring, "I know, bud."

Then came the part Jack wasn't looking forward to because then it all became _real_. He drew in a slow breath through his nose and stared immovably at the sea of trees far ahead, painted an impenetrable black by the night. "Ghosts," he called out, "atten- _hut!"_

There was a small shuffle, and then four hard thuds into the grass. Stood bolt upright, hands straight at his sides and legs together, Jack turned his head toward the team; Anna, Kozmotis and Hiccup all stood rigid as a board, in perfect harmony. Even Toothless had sat to attention with his chin held high and chest puffed out.

Satisfied, he turned back. "Present _arms!"_

His hand flew up to rest horizontally at his right temple, and the split-second sound of movement showed his team had done the same. He allowed a few seconds to pass before returning his arm to his side, yelled out, "Stand at _ease!"_ and then, "Stand easy."

The entire team relaxed, with both Anna and Kozmotis catching his eye; the former gave him a warm smile, and the latter a respectful nod. That would have been the end of the Ghost funeral rite, had he not had an idea earlier in the day which he brought to the rest of the team for a send-off, a kind of last hurrah for their fallen friends. He held his right hand out in front of him, relaxed and slightly cupped. A small rush of energy coursed into his hands, preceding the creation of four palm-sized snowflakes that floated away in the small breeze. Anna too sent four small balls of flame into the air, followed by four barely visible puffs of black sand from Kozmotis. Toothless followed a different tack; he raised his head to the sky and shot four small, gentle torpedoes of blue fire that became tiny explosions in the black.

"Wherever you all are," he murmured to the collective signs of reverence floating away, "give 'em hell for us."

* * *

 

_Time: 22:39_

 

"We all know synthohol's safe for pregnant women to drink," Anna had drawled in exasperation, suppressing a subsequent throaty cough for daring to speak, whilst making an impatient _get-on-with-it_ gesture for Jack to top up her glass, "Keep it coming, Frosty."

When Hiccup said he stole the strongest synthohol from a small bar two settlements over, he wasn't kidding. It was almost as strong as the _New Arendelle Shoreline,_ with probably the same capability of cleaning decade-old grease with a single wipe. Sat around the dining table in what Kozmotis called a _wake,_ every sip was followed with a bout of coughing - even from the usually unflappable sand-wielding Ghost.

"It's not the baby we're worried about," Hiccup had said. "It's _us."_

Not to mention every time Anna coughed or let loose a small burp, three pairs of wary eyes were cast her way.

"Ah, shut up, you big wusses." She tapped the side of the glass with her nails, creating a tinging sound. "C'mon. I just buried my husband in an empty grave. Reload."

The whole point of the wake was to share stories and anecdotes, or little speeches about their fallen friends. They were nearly all mentioned at least once in stories that varied from hilarious to serious, and even instances that no-one knew about. Anna talked of the time she was taken around the ship by Neve and waxed romantically of her first date with Kristoff, whilst Hiccup talked of Eugene's love of his frying pan and the tug-of-war he had with Toothless, who had caught a scent of the fried fish fillets cooked in the pan earlier in the day, and thought it would be a good idea to try and eat it. Poor Eugene had no chance of getting Agatha back by pulling it out of Toothless' mouth, yet still held on for dear life as he was dragged around like a ragdoll. That particular story nearly had Jack and Anna in tears of laughter. Only Belle remained with no anecdotes, and as Jack was busy topping up everyone's glasses and seriously debating watering it down, Kozmotis chose that moment to rectify that.

"Belle and I once had a rather heated discussion." All eyes turned to Kozmotis, who stared at his glass as he rotated it with his fingers, lost in memory. Wholly interested, Jack poured way too much into Hiccup's glass, right up to the brim, and quickly sat down. "We were talking about the best way to teach - I was more in favour of detention and extra homework for misbehaviour, whilst she preferred positive reinforcement. Our discussion devolved into a war of words, with most of them being French. I have no idea what she said, but I'm fairly sure it was rude. It got to a point where she threw the book at me."

Hiccup drew his glass to his lips, "She chewed you out on teaching rules or something?" and promptly recoiled in cursing surprise as the liquid spilled out onto his lap. "Dammit, Jack," he hissed.

"No, she literally threw the book at me. _War and Peace_ if I recall correctly. It was a very thick book. Hurt a lot." Kozmotis deadpanned.

Sniggers burst out, and even a wry smile and low chuckle from the tallest man. "I didn't know she had that in her!" said Anna in between laughter behind her mouth.

"Oh, even Belle had a berserk button. Everyone does, you just have to find it. I just wish she wasn't so accurate; I had a bruise on my cheek for weeks," Kozmotis lamented.

"Why didn't you tell us she was K.I.A?" Jack asked, before sipping from his drink and suppressing yet another cough. His throat was already insulting his mother.

Kozmotis looked up at him, studied him, and looked back down to his drink. Anna and Hiccup both cleared their throats, whilst the latter scratched behind his head to deal with the awkwardness. Several seconds passed with Jack increasingly regretting the question until Kozmotis finally spoke.

"Because I didn't want the pity." He took a gulp, and that time didn't so much as wince. "I didn't want people walking up to me and offering their condolences. Frankly, the idea of that was exceptionally patronising. I asked Scout Team Red to keep it quiet, and I did the same."

"You should have told us," Anna lightly chided him.

Kozmotis' eyes flicked over to her, then to the part of the table directly in front of her, then back to his glass. "I should. It was selfish, and gave everyone unnecessary hope, but I didn't care at that point. She was my closest friend, and I wanted to keep her memory for myself."

Anna opened her mouth, but decided against speaking, which only added to the awkward silence over the table. Belle was loved and respected on the ship, both for her pleasant demeanour and knowledge of literature, so while Jack - as undoubtedly did the rest of the team - felt slighted, he could sympathise. He nibbled at his lip while the intangible discomfort grew, feeling increasingly at odds with it - so decided it was time for a little fun.

"Hey, Koz?" he asked, and waited for him to look up before continuing, "You remember the prisoner rescue in Zone Forty?"

Kozmotis cocked his head. "The door incident? Yes, I think I do."

Jack grinned and clapped his hands together. "Great!" he cheered. Excited at the prospect of one of the funniest raids he'd ever been on, he gripped the chair to scoot forward and then rested his elbows on the table as he animatedly reminisced. "Okay, so this was before either of you joined," He said, gesturing to Anna and Hiccup. "I was about eight months into being a Ghost, and this was Koz's first mission."

"Woah, woah, woah, back it up." Anna leaned back, shaking her head with her hands in the air. "Koz was a _probie?!"_

Kozmotis threw Anna a glare, especially when she burst into sniggers. Grinning, Jack continued, "Hoooo, yeah. Anyway, with Mulan M.I.A., Kristoff was the temporary C.O. and I was his X.O., but even with Koz there we were a man down, so Shrek let us borrow Antonio for the mission."

"I remember Puss," Hiccup chuckled. "Good guy. Complete womaniser. _Fantastic_ dancer."

Jack clicked his fingers and pointed in agreement. "That's Antonio, all right. So, we land two clicks out from a waystation camp, about ten clicks south of the work camp the prisoners were being transported to. It's all easy; we clear the camp, kill their comms, make sure no-one's gonna drop in unannounced. Problem is, this waystation is one of the higher security ones, you know, on account of _us._ The prisoners were all held in this bunker, with thick steel doors, cameras, the works. Puss notices it's got a biometric hand reader, too."

Glancing up at Koz, his grin widened as a mirthful smirk appeared on his grey face.

"So, Puss gets worried. He gestures at all the knocked out bodies and says ' _maybe one of these gentlemen has the hand we're looking for?'_ and Koz, calm as anything, goes ' _Well, we only need the hand, not the body'._ Puss is, like, disgusted at the idea of Koz going around slicing off people's hands, so they argue in front of the door. Kristoff and I look at each other, roll our eyes, and I'm like, ' _Guys - you might wanna move',_ seconds before Kristoff literally punches the door down. Just like that - door's open. Puss just looks at us and goes, " _... or we could do that'._ Our glorious leader just smirks, offers his hand to him and says, ' _Hi, I'm Harvester. You must be new here'."_

Laughter broke out around the table, varying from Hiccup's nasal chuckles to Kozmotis' silent chortles, and Anna's uncontrollable giggles. Jack eyed his glass in memory whilst his own sniggers subsided. "We saved thirty people that day," he said, though his grin slowly fell to a thin line. "All thirty of them were on the _Star."_

The good humour dropped like a stone. Hiccup's eyes never rested on a particular point for long, whilst Anna and Kozmotis sank a long draught from their synthohol - long enough that both glasses were drained. Clearing his throat, Jack reached for the rectangular bottle in the middle of the table and used it to refill them. "He was a good guy," he said, mid-leaning to fill Kozmotis' glass, "Good leader. Every day this week, there's not been at least one moment when I thought to myself, what would Kristoff do? If he was here, after what happened in the Purge, what would be his first move as our leader?"

Jack flopped back down on the chair and slid the bottle over to Hiccup. "Then I realised - I shouldn't ask myself what would _he_ do, but what should _I_ do?"

Three pairs of eyes stared unblinkingly at him, listening to every word. Anna at his left, Kozmotis ahead, Hiccup to his right. He looked into each pair, resolve in his gaze. "So I'm making a change - full disclosure."

"Full disclosure?" Kozmotis repeated. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you hiding, Jack?"

Jack looked at Anna, and regretfully said, "I'm sorry, Anna, for hiding this from you." When she lifted her chin, with an expression of gentle hurt on her face, he added, "Kristoff hated keeping it from you too - but these orders go _way_ back. Like, right to the beginning. Kristoff told me about it when I became his XO, he was told about it by Mulan, and she was told about it by Wolfhound. We were under the strictest orders - need-to-know only, in case any of us got captured. I can't afford to be secretive now - and I was never one for rules," he added, grinning.

"What is it?" Anna asked quietly.

Jack moved his glass aside so he could lean his forearms on the table. "Everyone here knows about the Ghost Company after the war, right?" Three heads nodded back at him. "Well, when Unity turned the public against them and started hunting down all the abnormals that fought for the U.S. in the war, the Ghost Company saw the writing on the wall and started thinking long term. So, they fled to Canada, and built a training camp there called Camp Bravo. They figured they could rescue some of the other Company troops hiding from Unity around the U.S. and bring 'em back to Bravo. They could also rescue some abnormal civilians, train them and set up a proper resistance. In time, the resistance would bring Unity down, and Bravo would be the place they'd do it from."

Kozmotis filled in the gap. "But then Unity annexed Canada."

Jack clicked a finger and pointed at him. "Bingo. The Company knew they couldn't use Bravo anymore. Too risky. Then when the Reapers came out of fucking nowhere… they abandoned it. They split into three cells, the Ghosts, Spirits and Furies, and hid in the U.S. to carry the fight from within. One by one, the original members of the Company died, so it was ordered that only the leaders and XOs knew about Bravo. Course, after about fifty years no-one remembers exactly _where_ it is, but we all know it's still there."

Anna was the first to speak. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Because we're going to find it. I'm done hiding, waiting to die. I'm done falling back and watching Unity steamroll us while we can't do a thing to stop them. Not anymore. Not on my watch."

The mood around the table instantly changed. Deep interest became a steady rise in confidence and morale. Bodies stiffened, proud and erect, and every face looked back at him with solemn resolve.

"Unity thinks we're dead. So we're going to let them think that. We're going to find Bravo. We're going to watch, and we're going to wait, and when Unity starts to settle, when the Ghosts are just a memory? We'll throw a stone at them - and believe me, I'm winding up." Jack jabbed a finger into the table. "I don't know if it'll take months, years, decades, but I promise you this: when the time is right, we will strike, and we're gonna burn it all down. For Kristoff, Neve, Eugene, Belle, and everyone who died under Unity's boot - we're gonna bring the whole fucking corrupt system down around their ears."

Jack snatched up his drink and held it aloft. "For the fallen," he declared.

Three glasses were raised, and three voices sounded back in perfect synchronicity and identical, loud pride. "For the fallen."


	37. Ragnarok

" **Ragnarok"**

 

_Location: Twenty-four miles west of Ghost safehouse_

_Date: December 5th, 2073_

_Time: 14:10_

 

" _You are in big trouble, mister."_

Anna's voice, stern emphasis on the words _big_ and _trouble_ , still aroused a sense of mild nervousness in Jack despite him being forty clicks away from the safehouse, and at least two clicks up in the sky. "What did I do now?" he asked, grimacing behind the mask. How was it she could make him feel like he was about to be chewed out even though he was well out of her reach? He soared on over the clouds, body flat like a javelin, limbs occasionally jostled by minor turbulence. Maybe he pranked one of the team and completely forgot about it.

" _You're still hiding things from me. You know I don't like it when you hide things from me."_

He racked his brain; she told him she understood why he had to keep Camp Bravo from her, but there was nothing else he could think of that was a secret. As far as he knew, there were no more secrets between them. "Streak, I'm not playing the _let's-guess-why-a-woman-is-angry_ game. I'm a guy. We like it simple. What did I hide?"

" _Oh…"_ she said, as though faking being lost in thought whilst the patchy carpet of white fluff passed under him, " _just a small thing like, I don't know..."_ she paused for dramatic effect. Classic Anna, which meant Jack's ears automatically braced themselves for her subsequent squeal of, " _YOUR BIRTHDAY!"_

"Holy sh-!" he hissed, nearly falling out of the sky.

" _Whassa matter? Did I make you jump?"_

"You think?!" Jack yelped once the wind had caught and cradled him into a smooth hover. He rubbed over his chest, trying to soothe his spontaneously racing heartbeat. "Jump, fall, nearly become a frosty pancake - you know, the whole shebang!"

He could almost hear the rolling of Anna's eyes. " _You're such a drama queen."_

"Yeah." Jack grunted. "You ain't the one who's got nothing between you and the ground but a few clicks of sweet, sweet air. Also, doesn't that mean you _forgot?"_

Anna scoffed, loudly and a mite over-convincingly. " _That's beside the point. It's your birthday, which means we need to talk about presents!"_

Jack covered his face in his gloved hand, groaning in exasperation. "Streak, we can talk about this when I come back with the road-trip supplies."

" _Nuh-uh! We are talking about your presents right now!"_ she said. Jack debated arguing, but thought better of it. She usually won. " _So, what do you want? I was thinking…"_

Jack let out an amused chuckle. She was about to ramble, even if she was excited about it. Shaking his head, he flattened his body let the wind carry him through the air once more.

" _... maybe a hat? Ooh! A sandwich! Or maybe a clock? Oh, I know! How about a girlfriend?"_

"Please stop."

Anna continued on, ignoring or possibly oblivious to his groaning objection. " _... or what about a plant? I'm thinking a sunflower."_

He wished she was there, just so she could see the unimpressed arch of his brow. "A plant? Seriously?"

" _Yeah! You could freeze the moisture in the air, I melt the ice, and we can look after Mr. Sunny together!"_ she announced with greater brightness than the sun over his head.

"Oh my God…" he groaned. He rolled his eyes, and then spotted something at his low three o'clock that looked mighty curious. Two black dots hurtling through the air at an astounding speed. "Baby Tooth, zoom in," he murmured. The goggles obediently did so, turning the two small black shapes dipping in and out of the clouds into two unmistakeable drop ships, one following the other.

" _What? It's an idea! Tell me, what does the coolest - see what I did there? I'm so funny! - best friend want for his twenty-fifth?"_

"Night Fury."

Anna's reply was downright bewildered. " _... you want Night Fury?"_

"Yeah. As in, tell him to get his ass up here - forty clicks travelling west, two clicks high," he explained grimly, once he spied the insignia on the rear drop ship's dorsal fuselage. "Tell him to bring his signal jammer."

He could recognise that white, winged sword anywhere.

* * *

 

Time: 10:45

 

_Three hours earlier.._

 

The humming of the hover car convoy ceased as it pulled up outside the hangar bay, punctuated by the resonant and synchronised stomp of a dozen clone guards bolting to attention. His service cap peaking over the top of his vision, Hans waited until the left passenger door of the middle car opened, and yelled out, "Present _arms!"_ as soon as his brother Henrik climbed out. Over a dozen hands instantly shot up to hover above a dozen right eyes, a salute held even as High Inquisitor Gothel elegantly slid out of the car and rose to her full height like an unfurling vampire, wearing moderately heeled leather boots, a floor-length trench coat and ruby left-breasted jacket. She was an imperious woman, though Hans had to rely on rumour rather than experience for that knowledge. With ebony hair that cascaded in curls not unlike those of Valkyrie Third Dunbroch, though to frame a more angular face than that of Merida's, skin flawless in its pale ivory tone, wry grey eyes and a slender, curvaceous figure, there was a lot to find physically attractive about her. Behind that youthful look, however, hid a sadistic, violent, manipulative sociopath who cared little for friends and allies, seeing them more as toys or tools. Gothel was world-class at looking after number one, and Hans saw a lot of himself in her... which wasn't a good thing.

Hans turned his eyes back to his brother just as he stopped in front of him, and only when Henrik returned the salute did Hans allow his hand to return to his side. Appearances, and all that. "No need to stand on ceremony, brother," Henrik said, looking down on him with a weary eye. "We both know you have no time for it."

Saying nothing, betraying nothing, Hans relaxed and held his gloved hands behind his back. "Yes, sir."

Henrik studied him a moment and then scoffed. He looked away, casting a critical eye over the hangar. Moving to the side, he gestured between Gothel and Hans, with about as much enthusiasm as a wet cloth. "High Inquisitor, this is my younger brother, Commander Hans Larsen. He runs the _Staging Ground."_

Gothel gave him an uncomfortably slow once-over, her grey eyes lingering a little too long whilst they traced up and down his body. Her chin was lifted, showing ill-hidden contempt, but Hans had the sneaking sense she was doing what Inquisitors do best - scrutinise. He couldn't explain the wry smirk she wore though. It was almost as she was judging his worthiness to be eaten. "So, this is the famous Hans. You didn't tell me he was so…" she paused, eyes doing the up-and-down again, "handsome."

Hans had to suppress a shudder. In a thousand years and maybe after a hover trucks worth of synthohol, he might have entertained what was on Gothel's mind - but he liked waking up in the morning with his head still attached. If praying mantises could adopt human form, Gothel would be one of them. Plus, she could always frame him for sedition just because she wanted the entertainment. He lifted his chin and met Gothel stare-for-stare with perfect indifference.

"You're right, I didn't." Henrik inclined his head toward the hangar. "Shall we?"

Gothel frowned at him, pouting. She looked almost disappointed, and her husky voice was heavy with it. "Must we? I'm sure there's a lot that your brother and I can learn about each other."

She had crossed the line as soon as she opened her mouth the first time, though out of politeness Hans had kept his mouth shut and forced a polite smile on his face. Her brazen lack of respect had to stop, however, both for the sake of his increasingly harder-to-control shudders and the fact that she was, as an Inquisitor, unparalleled. "As much as I find the idea appealing, High Inquisitor," he said with as much a courteous air as possible, "time is short. Captain Bludvist is expecting you at eighteen-hundred."

Gothel scoffed. "Ah, yes. Captain Caveman."

Hans turned, and only when his face was safely out of her sight did he allow himself a smirk. "Please, follow me," he said, and led them toward the hangar... only to groan under his breath when Gothel replied in honeyed tones, "Lead the way, Commander."

_Not long now,_ he thought to himself as he nodded to a clone standing guard at his far right, by the huge steel doors.

Activated by the guard issuing a command to the controller inside, the double doors slid apart with a rhythmic clanking. A beam of natural light was cast into the darkened hangar, falling upon the nose of an immaculately clean _Hela_ class. Nary a scratch or ding adorned her black hull, which absorbed more and more sunlight as the doors grew wider - she looked fresh off the line. Hans started off along her port side, casting an admiring eye over her armor plating and lingering his gaze over her name: _Ragnarok._ The Norse twilight of the gods.

"She looks brand new," Henrik commented from behind and to his right. Hans chuckled dryly.

"Actually," he said, "she's been around for some time. We just endeavour to take good care of her."

His elder brother threw him a verbal. jab, one that Hans would dearly have loved to retort. "You always thought higher of objects than people."

"Permission to speak freely?" he asked. Henrik indicated he could continue. "Because they are just that: objects," he answered as they walked around to the open embarkation ramp. "They are neither good nor evil, they are not ambitious, they will not betray. They do exactly what they are designed to do, with none of the usual quirks of the human condition. Sir."

He turned to face them. Gothel wore a wry smirk that appeared as though she agreed, whilst Henrik's face was clouded in wounded darkness. "I apologise for the method of travel, but rest assured my engineering corps has worked around the clock to ensure the _Ragnarok_ is fit to carry two of our most important figures."

"I smell sycophancy," sneered Gothel. "I endure enough of that from Inquisitor Jafar. It makes my stomach turn."

Hans chuckled once - she wouldn't have to worry about that for much longer. His eyes traced over to regard his brother, and was puzzled when Henrik's eyes slowly took in the _Ragnarok's_ aft hull, wearing an expression of resignation on his face. The same expression someone wears when they know something is unavoidable. A flicker of dread lit itself in Hans' stomach. "Is the _Ragnarok_ not to your liking, sir?"

Henrik took a deep, long breath, and still kept his gaze on the ship. "It's unfortunate that I will not have the chance to finish my game of chess with Father."

"Who was winning, sir?" Hans asked politely.

"He was. He had me in check, with three moves to checkmate. I was completely outmanoeuvred." He looked down, eyes resting on the pilots as they completed their pre-flight checks, and sighed. "I have the same feeling now as I did then. How strange."

"What feeling is that, sir?"

Henrik's eyes came to rest upon Hans', and there was a melancholy acceptance in his emerald greens. A fatalist glimmer. Hans tilted his head slightly, feigning curiosity. "Defeat." His hand went up to rest on Hans' shoulder, and he felt it squeeze. "Goodbye, brother. I hope you find what you're looking for."

Without waiting for a reply or issuing another word, Henrik went up the embarkation ramp and picked the seat directly behind the pilot's, while Gothel chose the one opposite him after a brief and nauseating " _see you around"_ into Hans' ear. Moving around to the pilot's side of the ship, Hans banged twice on the hull and quickly moved out of the way. The pilot gave him a thumbs up, and the hover-skis promptly kicked in with a loud humming that pushed the _Ragnarok_ away a foot from the floor. Watching her as she was guided out of the hangar by an aircraft marshal wielding two glowing orange wands, a moment of introspection struck him. His pulse was steady, his stomach calm. His brother, who had attempted to protect him during his formative years, had just climbed into a tactically fatal situation. If his behaviour was any indication, _he knew_ of the fact.

Yet, Hans felt _nothing._ He knew he should feel something, be it regret, guilt, apprehension, pleasure, _something_ that would either slow or race his pulse. The ionic thrusters of the _Ragnarok_ roared into life with a blue glow, the resounding volume the only thing that garnered any reaction, before she climbed purposefully into the air and disappeared into the blue sky.

Nothing but his hope that the projectors mounted on the _Ragnarok's_ hull would switch off at the correct altitude, faith that the escorting _Einherjars_ would abandon her at the ordered time, and the anticipation of the next step.

For that, a young Valkyrie would be needed.

* * *

 

_Time: 11:35_

 

Sat on the edge of her bed, impeccably made as usual, Elsa rested her elbows on her knees and wrung her hands together. Aurora's advice had been going around and around her head like a particularly resistant thought since the ordeal, and with each passing hour that was not spent attempting to sleep, the adage that ' _the truth will set you free'_ was proving to be inescapable. As was the image of her body in the coffin, permanently burned into her memory. Staring at an invisible spot on the horrid light beige linoleum floor, she tried not to think about what would happen after. She was used to thinking ahead and planning; it was Anna that would rush in where angels feared to tread - though Elsa knew she was guilty of being impulsive on more than one occasion.

What the reactions of her team would be, however, still played on her mind. She knew exactly how the Ghosts would react, but she knew all bets were off regarding how the Valkyries would take it. Astrid, so far, thought she could be trusted, and though Rapunzel and Merida had strong opinions of their own, they looked to the taller woman for guidance. If Astrid reacted badly, then all the bonding would be for nothing. Elsa frowned, her stomach churning at the thought. Having friends after so long felt incredible, and she hated the idea of irrevocably damaging their trust.

_Just tell the truth, and that's all,_ she thought. _Worry about what comes after when it comes._

There came a light hammering from the door of someone requesting entry. Gasping in faint surprise, she bolted upright and rubbed her thighs to distract herself from the rabbit hole. "Who is it?"

"Valkyries Hofferson, Dunbroch and Corona, ma'am."

Elsa let out a small sigh of relief through her nose and nodded to herself. It was showtime. "Come in," she called.

The door slid aside with a light _shht,_ revealing Astrid with Merida and Rapunzel stood behind her, their heads just barely peeking over her shoulders, all dressed in arctic camouflaged pants and black vests much like Elsa was, with Rapunzel electing for a t-shirt. Judging by the light sweat on Astrid's body, she had just come from the gym. "Please make yourself comfortable," Elsa offered, gesturing to the basic black sofa and the chair by her desk, "and I would like this to be as though we're off-duty."

Astrid eyed the sofa with what looked like jealousy before electing for the chair. Merida and Rapunzel had no such problem with it and quickly sat down. "You sounded nervous on the wrist-com, Elsa," said Rapunzel, "is everything okay?"

Elsa glanced at her, and immediately her hands wrung themselves again. She took a deep breath and prepared for the plunge. It could be her end, or it could not. Nobody could know until she took the first step - and the dying advice of one Sleeping Beauty was that it was a step she needed to take. "I have a confession to make - and I'm scared it will permanently damage your opinion of me. One I kept for six years, that no-one knows, and one that a dying friend said I should tell you."

Rapunzel gasped and shuffled to the edge of the sofa, her face aghast. "Oh my God, Elsa, are you okay?"

She offered the worried brunette a weak smile and waved off her concern. "I'll be okay, I just need to process some things." She took another deep breath, feeling her chest tighten and her stomach ripple. "The truth is: I am the world's biggest hypocrite. I have hunted down and captured people who... who are my kind."

"What are ye saying?" Merida asked, looking at her out of the corner of one narrowed eye.

"I'm saying," Elsa said, squeezing her hands together to stop the wringing, and forcing herself to look at her team. "I'm saying… I am an abnormal."

The reaction that followed was one she did not expect. Three blank faces as though she told a joke none of them understood. Silence so strong, the drop of a pin was a bomb blast. She looked between her team, an increasingly tight knot in her stomach.

Astrid was the first, as always, to break the silence. She blinked, and said with bemusement, "That's it?"

Elsa's eyes danced every which way, while her mouth opened and closed, stunned. "Erm... yes."

Astrid took a quick look at her team, and Elsa didn't miss the subtle nod she received from Rapunzel. The darker blonde frowned slightly, as though at war with herself, before exhaling loudly through her nose. She glanced around the room as though looking for something before noticing the empty glass Elsa had been using for water half an hour ago. She jerked a thumb at it. "You gonna miss this?"

Elsa slowly shook her head, still oblivious to that which was evidently common knowledge to her team. Astrid twisted around to pluck the glass from her desk and rested its base on her palm with her fingers vertically supporting it. "Watch this," she said. Elsa did so.

The glass emitted a high pitched humming, faint at first but growing in both volume and pitch. Elsa regarded it warily, leaning back as she considered covering her ears. She glanced up from the glass at Astrid, who somewhat curiously was watching it with a sense of impatience. The screeching reached a point where Elsa's ears yelled obscenities at her.

The glass suddenly shattered. A hundred tiny shards cascaded down between Astrid's fingers and the sides of her palm, leaving only the viciously jagged base. Sighing with exasperation, Astrid delicately moved the base back onto the desk and then turned her hand over to carefully brush off any remnants of what used to be a perfectly adequate drinking vessel. "You're not that special, snowflake."

Elsa, who until Astrid spoke had been staring in wide-eyed astonishment, asked the sixty-four thousand credit question. "Um…" she stammered, "w-what just happened?"

Astrid scoffed, and a wry smirk appeared on her lips as she continued to brush off her hand. "I can create and channel vibration waves into anything I touch. I can shatter glass, or if I'm _really_ pissed, make a house shake. Only by touch though. Sucks."

"Don't forget the other thing," Rapunzel reminded her.

Astrid gave her an odd look which became quickly dawning understanding. "Oh, that's right. I don't know why, but after I've heard someone speak in a foreign language a few times, I can sorta understand them," she said indifferently, as though it was just another Tuesday.

Elsa blinked and slowly shook her head. "How? That seems implausible." She immediately admonished herself with a mental slap - Astrid just vibrated a glass into shattering, and she was questioning the plausibility of her language comprehension.

"Spent a lot of time thinking about it. Best I can figure is that most languages share a common base, and a lot of them go all the way back to Latin." She caught Merida's eye, the latter giving her a bemused look. Astrid rolled her eyes. "Yes, I read a book. Try not to faint."

Elsa narrowed her eyes. "Wait. On the bridge of the _Hammer,_ you could understand the Alliance transmission. That was…"

"Yup." Astrid sighed. "Rapunzel, you ready?"

The brunette gave her a queasy look. "You're gonna do the thing, aren't you?" she groan-whimpered.

Astrid half-smirked. "I'm gonna do the thing."

Whatever illusions Elsa had to what ' _the thing'_ was were quickly dispelled when Astrid leaned forward in the chair and pulled her combat knife out of its sheathe. The illusions were further obliterated when Astrid took the blade and sliced a long line into her open right palm, releasing a small stream of ruby blood that slid down her skin and dripped onto the floor. Wide-eyed, Elsa gasped in shock - her second-in-command's expression that a blade was cutting her hand was a complete non-issue was particularly surprising - and immediately got up to retrieve the first aid kit from her desk drawer, hissing, "Why would you _do_ that?"

Rapunzel's voice over her shoulder froze her in step. "Because she's a masochistic idiot that thinks she's a badass, that's why. Move over."

She was budged aside with a wholly unnecessary hand. Glancing blankly between them as she returned to the edge of her bed, Elsa watched as Rapunzel knelt in front of Astrid, and enclosed the injured hand in both of hers. Almost nonchalantly, Rapunzel hummed a soft tune as what looked like a faint amber glow shone from between her hands. "A-a-a-a-and... _ding!_ You're cooked." Rapunzel withdrew her hands, and Elsa immediately noticed what she had done when Astrid proudly held up her palm.

The cut was gone. No scarring or anything to show it was ever there, except for the remnants of blood around it. Just smooth, peachy skin.

"You…" Elsa breathed.

"Yep." Rapunzel beamed brightly as she gestured at Astrid's hand. "I just healed it. Can't do anything about the nerves though, so it's gonna sting for a while, but I can heal most injuries. Once stopped someone from dying, too."

"This is... unbelievable." Elsa swallowed, shaking her head with incredulity. "You just…" She lamely waved a hand at what used to be a deep cut. "Wow... does the, erm, humming help?"

Rapunzel gave her an odd look. "Huh? Oh! No, I just do that 'cause I like to. I did it ever since my bloom when I…"

She trailed off and looked away, an expression of wounded pain on her face, like an unhappy memory had just barged its way into her mind. "You okay, Rapunzel?" Elsa asked.

The brunette glanced at her and put on what was clearly a forced smile along with an over-convincing dismissive shrug. "Me? I'm fine. It's not a time in my life I like to visit. Don't worry about me."

Elsa opened her mouth to protest; sure, it could be construed as nosy, but for someone as bright and bubbly as Rapunzel to look so crestfallen, like the weight of the world was bringing her down, she wanted to help. Fortunately for Rapunzel, Astrid intervened. "Red, you're up. Show Elsa what you can do."

The devious smirk shared by both women was unmissable as was the way they looked with predatory eyes at Rapunzel. "I warn ye, this may shock ye."

"What?" the brunette said, a second before an expression of fear overcame her face. Wide-eyed, she shook her head and babbled, "No! No-no-no-no-no," as Merida's extended forefinger advanced on her right shoulder. She did her best to squirm away, emitting a quiet but high squeaking sound. Merida's finger leapt the last inch and connected with her shoulder, causing a soft _crack_ in amongst the high-pitched shriek from Rapunzel as she jumped. "Ow!" she cried. "Hey!"

If there was to be any comfort for Rapunzel's ordeal, it was swiftly overwhelmed by humour - whatever Merida's finger did, caused the brunette bob to stand on end in all directions. Elsa snorted into giggles, covering her mouth with a loose fist as she rolled a little onto her back. Astrid's cackling mixed with Merida's, and Rapunzel shot the redhead a death glare. "Hate it when you do that," she pouted, still glaring at her whilst she attempted to smooth down the hairy mess. "And you just _had_ to make a crappy pun, huh?"

"Sorry lassie, I cannae resist it," Merida sniggered.

"I assume," Elsa said once she caught her breath, "I assume yours is something to do with electricity."

Merida grinned slyly. "What, d'ye think ma hair was naturally like this?" she said as she pointed to her cascading red locks. "Every person's body generates a tiny amount of bio-electricity, but I can generate way more. I can charge up ordinary objects if they conduct it, and if I wanted ta, I can focus hard enough ta give someone a really bad hair day. Probably kill 'em, too, but I never tried it."

Elsa pointed a loose finger at her. "So your taser arrows…"

"That was all me." Her smile slowly dropped, and her eyes smoothed themselves over as mirth gave way to solemn acceptance. "I... electrocuted those people."

"Point is," Astrid butted in before an awkward silence descended, for which Elsa was quietly grateful, "you're not a special snowflake. We're all abbies - and I gotta say, it is a _relief_ to say that out loud. Out of curiosity, though, what can you do?"

Elsa looked down and blushed with embarrassment, quirking her lips to the side. "I, uh, don't know," she said lamely.

Rapunzel looked at her like she had told the world's worst joke. "You... don't know. Okay. Makes sense... not."

"It's something to do with ice," Elsa hastily amended, holding up a hand, "but... I never fully bloomed. I was interrupted, and my pills keep it at bay."

Astrid bolted upright, an expression of victory on her face as she pointed in the vicinity of Elsa's right pocket. "I knew it! I knew those pills were funky! Didn't I tell you?" she gestured to Merida, who rolled her eyes.

"No.. it's never come up," the redhead groaned.

"I suppose the real question is," Rapunzel said in the second instance of astute observation Elsa had witnessed, "why four abnormals are together, in the same team, right smack in the middle of Unity's military. It can't be a coincidence."

Elsa shook her head. "You're right. It can't." She sighed through her nose, chewing the inside of her lip. "I hate to state the obvious, but it's clear this is no accident. There's more to this than we thought we knew."

" _Valkyrie Leader Snowfield, report to Commander Larsen's office immediately. I repeat, Valkyrie Leader Snowfield to Commander Larsen's office."_

The P.A. system embedded in the corner of the ceiling instantly took the attention of all four women, and more than a few nervous glances were shared as soon as Lieutenant Kowalski finished the tinny announcement. Elsa's eyes lingered upon the speaker for a few seconds and thinned her lips into a line. "That doesn't sound good," Astrid remarked. If there was a Stating-the-Obvious ball, Elsa had just passed it to her.

"No," Elsa murmured, "no it doesn't." She turned her gaze to her team. "We'll discuss this later, in secret. I don't want to risk someone finding out, clear?"

The Stating-the-Obvious ball was firmly back in her hands, it seemed, as she received three expressions of exactly the same reaction - _Duh._

* * *

 

_Time: 12:15_

 

Resisting the urge to chew Lieutenant Kowalski out for the filthy looks she was liberally throwing at her, Elsa fixed her eyes directly ahead at the door whilst she made sure her platinum blonde bun was up to code. Commander Larsen may not be as much a stickler for protocol as his elder brother, but _she_ believed that if you were in the military, you had to _look_ like you were in the military. As a result - her favourite single French braid style hadn't been worn for three years.

Her mind went back to the revelation in her quarters. Confessing her secret to her team had filled her with a lightness, a sense of peace she had not felt since she could remember. Aurora was right in that she should take a chance and trust her team with her secret, and her team had rewarded her with a secret of their own - they were just like her. Abnormals, trapped, surrounded by Unity and its military. Scared to put a foot wrong in case their secret was exposed.

The sound of a throat being cleared attracted her attention. "Commander Hans will see you now," Kowalski said in what could easily be construed as an insubordinate sneer.

Elsa gave her a cold look. "Thank you, Lieutenant." She stepped forward toward the door, but turned back as a thought hit her. "I suggest you brush up on military chain of command and protocol on your next break. Particularly when addressing your _superior officer."_

Kowalski muttered-slash-spat a " _yes ma'am"_ just as she pressed a button on the side of her desk. The door slid aside with a quiet _shht._ Casting the lieutenant another cold look through the corner of her eye, Elsa entered the office and heard the door slide closed behind her. She looked over at the desk, where Hans was distracted with what looked like a holographic image of two _Hela_ class dropships engaged in a chase. He looked up just as the pursuing _Hela_ opened fire on the fleeing one causing it to explode into a hundred pieces of blue-hued translucent shrapnel, and hastily waved his hand through the projection once he clocked where her gaze was resting. Obedient to the gesture, the ships dissipated into tiny sparkles, and disappeared.

Intrigued, Elsa opened her mouth to announce her name, and that she was reporting as ordered, when he held up a gloved finger to his lips. She frowned in confusion, but closed her mouth, and put herself in the standard _at ease_ position. He quickly and somewhat haphazardly rose from his chair and scurried around his desk, past her and toward the door where he tapped his finger on a small button. The door slid aside once more, and Hans stepped back in surprise when Lieutenant Kowalski nearly fell through.

"What were you doing, Lieutenant?" he asked slowly, his back to Elsa. Kowalski glanced nervously between them before quickly stiffening to attention. The crimson flooding her cheeks was visible from New Corona.

"I was just checking the door was closed, sir."

Elsa rolled her eyes and subtly shook her head in exasperation. Hans folded his arms and asked, "And are you satisfied?"

"Yes sir," came the quick reply.

"Good. Security is an important issue, after all." Elsa could hear the smile in Hans' voice; he was obviously humouring the embarrassed lieutenant. "I noticed you've been hard at work for the entire day - how about you take an early break? I will meet you later in the usual place."

"But sir-"

" _Now,_ Lieutenant."

Elsa tried to suppress a smirk, especially when she caught Kowalski's face in the battle between blank obedience and green jealousy. "Yes sir," she murmured, and slunk out of the room like a scolded cat.

Hans tapped the button once more, and the door promptly closed. "Sir, I-" she began, but Hans held up a silencing hand as he turned around, shaking his head as if to say ' _not yet'._ "Uni-Com, enter standby mode," he ordered, and the screen complied by reverting to its clear-glass state. "Secure office," he said loudly. Elsa glanced around the room, frowning in curiosity as the lighting instantly changed; the natural light pouring in through the frosted windows was exiled by the windows filling themselves with an opaque dark grey, leaving only the bright artificial light from the ceiling to illuminate the room. Hans gave his office the visual once over with scrutinising and alert eyes until he was content with its state.

"Sorry, Valkyrie Leader," he said quietly, his posture relaxing a visible margin. He swallowed, and looked directly at her. Elsa found herself surprised by the anxiety in his eyes - which was adequately explained by, "If what we are about to discuss was overheard, it could get us both court martialled and executed."

The ominous quality to his voice made her heart send a trickle of worry throughout her chest. "Yes, sir," she said, leaving the last word as a silent opening for him to elaborate.

He stepped forward and rested a hand on her right shoulder, bending down just enough so their eyes were level, and his other hand hovered loosely in the air ready to punctuate his words. "If you recall, in your report after the Purge you explicitly stated your belief the Ghosts had perished in the explosion. You said that your final sweep of the battle zone yielded no survivors. Is that true?"

Elsa's breath caught. Her mind immediately went back to the brief chase into the clouds that culminated in the _Valhalla_ being held dead-to-rights by the _Fairy_ and Night Fury. When Frost literally walked over the ship to threaten them with a number carved in frost on their cockpit windshield. The chase through Lower City, and the conversation she had with him. Fear and doubt filled her, causing her mind to fracture in different directions. Did Commander Hans know she lied in her report? Was he aware of the chase? If Rapunzel could keep track of them with Elsa's facial recognition and spy program, then it was possible someone else did so, too. She realized how her breathing had deepened, and so focused herself into keeping as much composure and calm as possible as she tried to work out her options.

If she lied again, and Hans had evidence to prove otherwise, she was signing her own death warrant, and those of her team. If she told the truth, the result was the same. The two choices warred with each other, a vicious and paralysing battle that only intensified the sensation of dread filling her body. She willed herself to cut through the self-imposed bull, seeking a third option.

She found one - ignorance. "The truth is, sir," she answered, forcing her voice to be as even and steady as possible, "I lied in my report. I don't know for sure if the Ghosts survived the Purge."

Hans tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Elsa didn't miss the disappointment flashing in those emerald irises. "Why did you feel the need to fabricate an official report?"

Elsa swallowed and inhaled a breath through her nose. "Because Supreme Commander Henrik doesn't like things that are not definitive, sir. I felt he wanted to hear the Ghosts had been eliminated, so to avoid any reprimands on my team, I lied. I apologise wholeheartedly, sir, and will submit myself for disciplinary action."

There was a moment of silence. Hans thinned his lips and rose to his full height, looking down upon her. Elsa's gaze fell to rest upon the point where the lapels of his military jacket met, and prepared herself. Insubordination in the military was dealt with harshly - Astrid's solitary confinement was a testament to how dimly the brass viewed it.

Hans chuckled. Elsa, frowning, snapped her gaze up, and noticed how he was smiling. Knowingly, at that. "Oh, I completely understand," he said in a voice that appeared amused, "my brother doesn't like grey areas."

Bereft of anything to say, Elsa replied with a bemused, "Yes, sir."

Hans looked away, and there was a twinkle of something she wasn't sure she liked in his eyes. "Well that makes this easier: the reason I summoned you to my office, Valkyrie Leader, is because you - or rather, your report - is about to be proven wrong."

"Sir?"

Hans' eyes briefly went to the door, and then back to her. "Recently, we picked up an unauthorised drop ship travelling across Unity territory at an altitude of two thousand metres, headed west at half speed. Attempts to hail them have been unsuccessful, and they have not deviated from their course."

Elsa took a quiet breath. "You think it's the _Fairy,_ sir," she stated.

Hans nodded, and his free hand came back up. "I do, and it won't be long until the powers that be come to that conclusion as well. Which means we have little time."

"Time for what, sir?" she asked, wondering if she had walked into a parallel universe where Commander Hans was actively breaking military law. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm telling you this-" he began in a soft tone. His hand squeezed her shoulder. "-because it won't be long before orders are issued for the unidentified craft to be shot down. I'm telling you this, because family is important, and I know you have a member of family on that ship."

Elsa's composure went out of the window. Her eyes widened to their limit, and her lungs sucked in an involuntary breath. He knew about Anna. He knew about Anna's occupation, her status as an abnormal. "How did you-"

He smirked knowingly. "There's only one reason you would put yourself in front of a stun rifle and then break the poor clone soldier's arm in two places. It didn't take me long to put two-and-two together."

Elsa made a heavy grimace. If it was anyone else, she would have been as blank as a statue, but something about Hans made her feel she didn't need to hide it. "I wasn't thinking when I did that, sir," she said meekly.

"You were protecting your sister, Elsa," he said, and her embarrassed guilt faded at the use of her name, "and I fully understand that." His smirk fell to a warm smile, and he tilted his head. "Why do you think we're talking?"

His eyes glanced behind her for a few seconds, and Elsa's recollection of his office reinforced by her current situation meant she knew he was looking at the clock mounted on the wall. "Hypothetically, if the _Valhalla_ were to take off in the next ten minutes, she would intercept the _Fairy_ in ninety minutes." He looked back at her and winked. "Hypothetically."

Elsa blinked, and her chest heaved as she breathed through parted lips. Fate was giving her a chance to find her sister, in the form of someone who was technically committing grievous insubordination and possible treason by indirectly aiding the enemy. Hans was giving her a chance to reunite her family. Words couldn't express her gratitude to him. "I needn't remind you that you are running out of time," he pressed further, "I can only delay the deployment of interceptor _Einherjars_ for so long. Whatever you need to do, do it fast." His eyes flicked to the door in a silent hint, made redundant by, "Go."

Elsa instantly bolted to attention and saluted. "Yes, sir. At once, sir." She turned and darted to the door, but just as she reached for the button, hesitation gripped her. She turned and gave him a look of pure appreciation. "Thank you very much, sir. I won't forget this kindness."

Hans' face went stern. "You can thank me by pulling this off without a hitch, or it's both our heads on the chopping block." He pointed to the door. "You're wasting precious time. Get off my base and go find your sister."

Elsa had never left a room so fast in her life.

* * *

 

_Time: 13:50_

 

Though the Valhalla was hurtling at top speed through the air, skirting over the lowest cloud cover like a hand brushing over a fluffy carpet, Elsa's anxiety and impatience was at fever pitch. Her eyes scanned the perfect baby blue sky ahead, silently thankful the sun had not reached the point where it would blind her vision - though a _Hela's_ windshield had a dimming function that prevented that - for any sign of the _Fairy ahead._ By all accounts and the math done in her head as they took off, the _Valhalla_ should be right on top of her.

She took one hand off the stick to adjust her body armour and trenchcoat, feeling increasingly stifled by how it held her body. It never bothered her until the Purge, but since then it felt nothing but heavy. Whether that was due to its design, or the guilt behind the uniform she didn't know - but field operations whether by air or land dictated the team must be in full gear, so that was that. She stretched her neck to the side and adjusted her posture, trying to stave off the numbness in her butt, and tweaked the position of her headset.

At her side, Merida stood between her and Astrid, her sky-blue eyes picking apart the view ahead. Her vision, Elsa hoped, would be invaluable in spotting the _Fairy_ well before anyone else, even if she was hidden within the cloud cover. Rapunzel was peering out of the port side porthole, watching the clouds rush under her, whilst Astrid conducted mid-flight checks of the ship's systems. There was no switch that was not flicked, no holo-interface that was not manipulated by her fingers, and no system diagnostic that was not run short of a full system purge - which would drop the _Valhalla_ out of the sky. She never conducted such checks before, especially mid-flight, so her reasons were glaringly obvious - a distraction.

"This doesn't feel right," she muttered after completing the sixth diagnostic of the power relays. The holo-blueprint of the ship hovered over the console between them, and each of the hundred tendrils sprouting from the centre of her composite wing were coloured green, Meaning: fully operational.

A wave of her fingers had navigated her to the weapons systems, and she was about to scrutinise _them_ when, without moving her eyes from the view ahead, Merida drawled, "Astrid, ye've done, like, too many diagnostics. Tha ship's fine."

"It's not the ship I'm talking about, Red. This whole situation doesn't feel right."

"How do you mean?" Rapunzel piped up from the passenger hold.

"Everything we know about the Ghosts tells me that this is _wrong._ They only moved at night, so why would they be flying in the middle of the day? I mean - this isn't how they operate," Astrid explained - and immediately resumed checking the weapons.

Elsa had to admit; Astrid had a point. The Ghosts were too clever to leave themselves so exposed, too cunning to risk being caught by travelling in daylight hours. Not to mention travel in a straight line, too; even the rookie pilots knew to alter their patrol paths every so often. She played devil's advocate, hoping to convince herself otherwise. "It _wasn't_ how they operated, but the Purge changed everything for them. It would be naïve to think they would proceed the way they used to. Who knows - this could even be a decoy," she said.

"Decoy? Why?" Astrid asked.

Elsa shrugged - truth be told, she hadn't given the idea much thought. "I honestly don't know. Either way, Commander Hans risked his life and career informing me about this, and he could also be wrong. This could be just another drop ship with comms problems." Astrid scoffed loudly upon hearing that. "Speaking of which, I assume our comms system is working?"

"We'll find out soon," Merida said, drawing Elsa's attention with her low, purposeful tone. "I spotted her. Twelve o'clock low."

Elsa immediately snapped her gaze to the assigned direction; straight ahead, and below. For a few moments she saw nothing but wispy cloud and the occasional patch of green in the far distance - until a telltale nose appeared from inside a cloud formation. "There she is," she murmured. With the _Fairy_ travelling at half the speed of the _Valhalla,_ it wouldn't be long until Elsa's craft was right on top of her - and she intended to make the Ghosts fully aware of their presence before then. Her left hand instinctively went up to the headset's microphone arm and pushed it closer to her mouth. "To the pilot of the _Fairy,_ this is the _Valhalla._ Come in please."

She waited for the reply. None of the other Valkyries dared speak, but the tension in the cockpit _and_ the cabin was palpable. Even Rapunzel had squeezed in beside Merida, rapt. Silence was the only thing returning from the comms line, so she tried again. " _Fairy,_ this is _Valhalla._ Come in, please."

She received nothing but silence once again. Casting a quick glance at Astrid, she hailed the _Fairy_ a third time whilst Astrid said, "Are we sure this is the Ghost's ship?"

"Only one way ta find out," Merida said, tapping Astrid on the shoulder. "Try'n magnify."

Elsa looked over at the middle console just as Astrid pressed a button to bring up a small holo-screen, which was filled with a close-up real-time moving image of the _Fairy_ as they advanced on her _._ "That's her," Merida declared with conviction, "pulse bolt scorch marks on the aft hull. Bank starboard for me?"

Elsa gently teased the stick to the right, at odds with her eagerness to find out for sure. The _Valhalla_ responded with equal gentleness, banking to alter her flight path just enough for the _Fairy's_ starboard side to be visible on the screen. "Aye, that's her. Registration number's the same," Merida said. Elsa let slip a quiet exhalation of relief through pursed lips and returned the _Valhalla_ to its original bearing. "We should be in their sensor range by now," she said offhandedly, looking out through the windshield.

It was just as she glanced back at the holo-screen that she noticed the _Fairy_ do something that aroused a further sense of anxiousness. "Looks like they figured that, too," Astrid said, when the blue jets bursting from the four engines of the Ghost's ship brightened and intensified. "She's speeding up. She knows we're following her."

Elsa wasted no time. " _Fairy,_ this is Valkyrie Leader Snowfield, we are on your six. Please respond."

Still, there was silence. No voice belonging to Frost, or to Anna responding to her. She nibbled at her lip, her brow knitting together as her heart beat with a dull ache. She closed her eyes and swallowed, before opening the guarded gates between her heart and her mouth, letting the words flow freely. "Anna, if you're there, it's me. Your sister. I still love you, I always will, and I'm here to warn you - Unity knows you're here. They're dispatching fighters to shoot you down. Please, if you can hear me - disappear. Get out of here. You don't have much time. Maybe... maybe we'll see each other again."

Silence.

She let out a shaky breath, and disappointment rushed to take the place of hope. "Dammit," she whispered, opening her eyes to do a onceover of the cockpit for no other reason than to fill it with unsaid words of frustration. "Great time to give me the silent treatment, Anna," she hissed to herself.

Rapunzel offered something Elsa sensed was intended to be reassuring. "Their comms could be down. I mean, she's an old ship, she's been through a lot."

Elsa chewed her lip. The skeptic and the realist in her, the part of her that embraced cynicism rolled its eyes and mouthed off something about naivety, but the rest of her jumped on Rapunzel's reassurance. "Options," she addressed the team.

"Ye could send them a text-based message," Merida suggested, which was followed immediately by a sardonic scoff from Astrid.

"Elsa just poured her heart out over the wave and got sweet nada. What makes you think a message is gonna work?"

"Well, what do _you_ suggest, Little Miss I-Like-To-Punch-Things?" Rapunzel said, wiggling her head from side to side with every word.

Even Elsa couldn't stop the amused smirk from crawling up her lips as she glanced over toward Astrid, who was glaring daggers at the brunette. "I suggest we fire a warning shot," she growled.

The reactions from Merida and Rapunzel were predictably negative. Both women clamoured over each other in their attempt to get Astrid to see the error of her ways. Elsa took one long look at the Fairy. "Let her speak," she ordered.

Rapunzel and Merida instantly fell silent. "They can't hear us but we know they can see us, otherwise they wouldn't have increased speed. Lift the _Valhalla_ a degree or two. I'll fire a burst over their cockpit - they'll definitely see that. They'll know we're serious."

Elsa debated the option in her mind, but the realist in her reminded her that, frankly, she was out of other choices. They couldn't pull in front and communications were clearly useless. She nestled her lower lip between her teeth, inhaled a breath and then said, "Activate the cannons."

The atmosphere, if it were possible, grew more tense. Astrid quickly prodded a button to her right, waited for the resultant humming to cease its slow increase in pitch, and then gripped her control column with her right finger hovering over the red trigger. "Ready," she announced.

"On my mark," Elsa said. "Three, two, one." She pulled back on her stick. The _Valhalla's_ nose climbed. "Mark."

There was a click as Astrid squeezed the trigger, and a second-long burst of red bolts that soared out of her cannons at astonishing speeds to zip well over the _Fairy's_ cockpit, with not a single one even coming close to her hull.

The _Fairy_ exploded. What once was an aging, battle-scarred drop ship became a blinding ball of golden flame. The ship disintegrated with the force of the explosion, deafening the Valkyries and catapulting chunks of metal shrapnel in all directions, and black smoke billowed out from the jagged ends of the wings as they fell to earth, useless.

Elsa didn't register it at first. She didn't register much of anything. Her mind went blank, her eyes went wide and her mouth parted in shock - and judging by the pin-drop silence in the cockpit broken only by the chunks and shrapnel bouncing off the _Valhalla's_ hull, the same reaction was shared by her team. Her hands trembled as they instinctively covered her mouth, and she could do nothing but watch the pieces of the dead _Fairy_ fall through the clouds whilst her body weakened. Released of her grip, the stick returned to its upright position and the _Valhalla_ flew straight and level.

"Astrid," Rapunzel whispered breathlessly, "what did you _do?"_

"N-nothing!" Astrid protested in a weak, high voice. "I didn't do anything! It was a good shot!"

"Ye musta done somethin' lass, 'cause tha _Fairy_ just blew up!"

"It was a good shot!" Astrid yelled, though out of horror rather than anger.

Rapunzel sputtered, "Yeah? Well, guess what? Your _good shot_ just wiped out the Ghosts! Elsa's sister was-"

_"Valhalla, this is Echo One. You are ordered to stop and come about where we will escort you to the Staging Ground, over."_

The voice over the comm line jarred Elsa back into the world from the numb shock she was trapped in. Military protocol took over. "This is the _Valhalla,_ please repeat dispatch?" she answered in a weak voice.

_"You are ordered to stop and come about, where you will be escorted back to the Staging Ground. Any attempt to disobey or deviate will be met with deadly force, over."_

Deadly force. Elsa tried to work out why the orders had those words attached. Technically the Valkyries did Unity a favour, so why were they being threatened? She glanced at the sensor map in the middle console - and felt a rush of worry when she noticed two blue dots moving parallel to the _Valhalla's_ white dot in the centre. "Rapunzel, would you kindly check our three and nine o'clock?"

She did so, with a shuffle of feet back to the passenger hold. Elsa kept her eyes on the sensor map while she waited. "I don't see any-" she began, but then her voice instantly changed. "Wait, I see it. _Einherjar_ concealed in the clouds at nine…" there was another shuffle as she darted to the starboard side, "... and three o'clock. We're being flanked."

"What the hell's going on?" Astrid whispered.

Elsa shook her head. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out." Her hands went up to the microphone arm, and announced in the most spectacular example of forced politeness, "Echo One, this is _Valhalla._ We are contacting the _Staging Ground_ for confirmation. Please hold."

Astrid snorted, causing Elsa to throw a glance her way. "Did you just put a fighter jet on _hold?_ "

"I guess I did," Elsa said with brusque nonchalance. She addressed the ship's onboard A.I. "Valhalla, establish connection with Commander Hans at the _Staging Ground_ , please. Encryption level omega."

_"Working."_

_"Connection established."_

Where once the magnified view of nothing but empty sky existed, a blue-hued holographic screen of Commander Hans took its place from his shoulders up, the entire image no bigger than a miniature Uni-Com. Once blank, as soon as the image completed knitting itself, his eyes instantly went to Elsa, and he frowned in confusion. " _Valkyrie Leader, what… hang on, confirming encryption…"_ A few seconds passed, and then the border of the screen glowed with a red hue. " _Okay, we're secure. Go ahead."_

Clutching the stick with gently trembling hands, Elsa said with far too much rapidity, "Sir, something horrible has happened."

Hans' frown relaxed, and he adopted the familiar expression of patient listening, as a teacher would a student. " _Okay. Put the Valhalla into hover mode and tell me."_

After pulling back on the lever to her left causing the _Valhalla_ to slow to a complete stop, Elsa immediately launched into an explanation of the events from the moment they caught sight of the _Fairy,_ through the communication problems and the subsequent ship confirmation, the _Fairy's_ inexplicable destruction, all the way to the threats made by the flanking _Einherjars._ She left no word unsaid, no stone unturned, and when she finished relaying the events to him, Hans' expression had not changed in the slightest. He didn't even flinch when Elsa mentioned the words ' _deadly force'._

Had she not been so shaken by the turn of events, it would have struck her as odd. " _I see,"_ Hans said, one translucent and gloveless hand reaching up to stroke his chin in thought. " _Well, there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for the behaviour of Echo One."_

"What is that, sir?" Elsa asked.

" _Because I sent them."_

Elsa's breath caught. Her brow knitted together, and her head recoiled an inch or two backwards in surprise. "You... sent them?"

Hans smiled, and unlike all the other times, this smile was smug. " _Yes. They've been shadowing you ever since you left the base, remaining just outside of sensor range."_

Elsa caught Astrid's eye, and she was just as perplexed. She mouthed a ' _what?!'._

"But... why would you do that, sir?"

" _It's fairly simple, really. The craft you shot down was not the Fairy."_

Elsa's confusion only grew, as did an increasing sense of betrayal. The strings that had grown in noticeable strength since the Purge felt downright tangible. "What do you mean: not the _Fairy?"_

Hans' smile fell, and his face became hard as stone. " _No. The craft you destroyed was the Ragnarok, and on board, besides two pilots, was one High Inquisitor Gothel Delrada,"_ he paused while his face softened into a victorious half-smile, " _and one Supreme Commander Henrik Larsen."_

Gasps mingled with breathy hisses of ' _what the fuck'_ in the _Valhalla's_ cockpit. Elsa glanced, wide-eyed and in shock, between her teammates. Each one returned the same expression. How could he know who was on board? How could he know the _Ragnarok_ would be destroyed, unless… "You knew this would happen from the beginning," she murmured in dawning realisation.

Hans raised a finger. " _I always knew you were smart. But I didn't just know - I orchestrated it."_

Elsa was too stunned to speak. No words would come; they were crushed underneath the wave of betrayal and treachery to even get close to her throat. Hans took it as a silent cue to continue.

" _There's an old saying in the military - to take down a trained abnormal, you either need ten clones,"_ he paused, whether for dramatic emphasis or to drink in her bewilderment, " _or another trained abnormal."_

"Another-" Astrid began, but words failed her too. Elsa could only assume it was for the same reasons words failed _her -_ the creeping nausea of fear that churned and twisted her gut, paling her face and thumping her heart. He knew. He knew of her abnormality, and those of her team. The questions raged like shadows in her mind; how long had he known? Had he _always_ known? Did he orchestrate _that_ , too?

" _You see - the Ghosts, Spirits and Furies were cutting swathes through our forces, and try as we might we could never truly stop them. We needed a team of our own, one that could match them and beat them - and you performed admirably. Thanks to you, and your inherent physiological gifts, the abnormal resistance has been broken; the Ghosts, Spirits and Furies have all been wiped out - though I must praise you in particular, Elsa. To stand up to Frost, and to do so without even fully blooming? Impressive."_

"But... why?"

" _Why? What's the one thing humans want, Elsa? Power."_ His face darkened, lips peeling apart into a venomous grimace. " _As the thirteenth son in a military family, and the commander of a glorified training base, there was no chance of promotion or recognition. So I created the Valkyries. The destruction of the Ghosts, Spirits and Furies was just the preview; the Purge was my opening night, so I needed someone who had a reason to fight, who would stop at_ nothing _to take them down in revenge. I gave you that reason, Elsa, and you performed_ masterfully."

Elsa sucked in a shaking breath, and her world fell away in that instant. Her reason to fight - her parents. Vengeance. Retribution. A ruthless path of rage that left hundreds dead, all orchestrated by the one man she trusted the most. "You…" she whispered in a tremulous breath, "you killed my parents."

Hans smiled, a light one that barely lifted the corners of his mouth, and he tilted his head to the side. " _Guilty. You see; I will stop at nothing, betray anyone, kill anyone to achieve power. You are_ nothing, _Elsa, but a puppet. A few breadcrumbs here, a visit from my brother to a cloning facility on an unrelated errand but coincidentally timed with the request for three certain clones... and you took the bait."_

"Henrik was innocent…" Rapunzel murmured.

" _Correct. My brother knew nothing of your abnormalities, nor of the cloned Ghosts, but I knew he would steal the Valkyries from me at some point, so I had to arrange a little accident for him. Congratulations, Valkyries - you are responsible for the deaths of two more innocent people. I believe that's called murder - and when our Inquisitors conduct an examination of your Uni-Com, Elsa, and find evidence of a search that yielded who you thought to be the culprit behind your parents' deaths? They will come to the conclusion I want them to - that you found out Henrik was responsible and plotted to kill him. When you learned he would be travelling via drop ship to the Chimera Shipyards, alone and tactically trapped, you saw your chance and pursued him with the intent to shoot him down. When they see this,"_ he waved into the image something offscreen. Hans' face shifted to the left, and a moving representation of one dropship shooting down another took its place. Elsa recognised it as the same image that hovered over his desk when she entered his office. The one he hurriedly wiped away.

" _That conclusion will be_ ironclad."

Elsa couldn't look away. Her rage, grief and sense of betrayal had reached such a point where they cancelled each other out, leaving only numbness and shock. She stared into Hans' eyes, the eyes of a murderous and cunning man, trying to hold onto the shards of her life that was falling apart before her eyes. Hans was behind her parents' deaths, and manipulated events so that at first the Ghosts looked guilty, and then Supreme Commander Henrik. He turned her and three other women into deadly weapons and pointed them at the Ghosts, with full knowledge of their gifts, indifferent to the collateral loss of life they caused.

Three of the team were rendered speechless - but Astrid had no such qualms. True to her strong-willed, short-tempered nature, she was the first and _only_ person to speak. "Hell of a villainous monologue, Hans." She slowly clapped. "Four stars, would hear again, you murderous son of a bitch."

Hans rolled his eyes and looked at her with contempt as though her daring to speak was akin to him enduring stupidity. " _Oh, Astrid. You are, as ever, too myopic to see the bigger picture. There's a reason behind my little speech, as is behind everything I do."_

"Oh really? What's that?" Astrid growled, just as the sensor map pipped.

Hans smiled again, a full, malevolent grin. " _Well, one reason is that I wanted to see your faces when you realised the truth. I wanted to see the betrayal in your eyes in real time - and it has been rewarding. There is, however, another reason. I've been stalling."_

There was another pip. Then another. Another. A dozen pips in quick succession, and another dozen so rapid it sounded like one long noise. Elsa looked down just as two more pips sounded off from the map, and felt her lungs tighten whilst simultaneously becoming jelly - at the centre was the _Valhalla's_ white dot... surrounded by seven blue dots in equidistant spacing, and a cloud of tiny specks directly in the top segment. Slowly, reluctantly, her eyes travelled up, up along the console where the myriad dials, gauges and readouts shone their numbers back at her, and with a thumping heart that threatened to freeze…

"No…" she whispered.

Up ahead, halfway inside firing range hovered at least two dozen drones, each one staring back at her with their glowing red visual sensors. Flanking them were two _Einherjars;_ next to them, another two. Astrid pressed the button to bring up the rear view, and when Elsa weakly returned her gaze to the centre console and rested her eyes upon the image, she easily spied a further three behind her. Seven _Einherjars,_ two dozen drones, all pointed at the _Valhalla._ Her mind, with what strength it had left given the knowledge that her world had been turned upside down and ripped apart, willed her body to do something. Bank left, right, _anything._

" _Valkyrie Leader Elsa Snowfield, in league with the Ghosts and with the Alliance, you and your team stole the Valhalla and went rogue in Unity territory, where you assassinated High Inquisitor Gothel Delrada and Supreme Commander Henrik Larsen, forcing me to hunt you down and destroy you."_

Hans' declaration, with the stern conviction and unwavering purpose in his voice, stirred her mind into action and gave her a verbal kick up the posterior. Jerked back to reality, she yelled, "Wait!"

" _I'll make this quick,"_ he said. Elsa snapped her eyes to his visual representation, noticing how his right hand was poised to his ear ready to send the kill command, and how the border of the screen was no longer red. She briefly wondered if he deactivated the encryption just before making the announcement.

"Wait, sir, wait! Please!" she cried.

" _All units, lock target, prepare to fire."_

Elsa glanced up just as the twin pulse-cannons of the two _Einherjars_ deployed, protruding from the smooth front edges of the curved wings. Her eyes widened, and she hastily let her heart flow forth in an outpouring of hope.

"Sir, my team was just following me, they were following my orders. I will take full responsibility for what happened today, but they were my actions, and mine alone. I will submit myself to you, I will return to base for court martial and execution just... please, spare my team. If I give myself up, all I ask is that you let them live."

"Elsa, what are you-" Rapunzel hissed.

"Please, sir. I'll do anything you want. Just don't make them pay for my mistakes," Elsa pleaded with him.

"She's trying to save our lives," Astrid said in a voice that stood between acceptance and awe.

She watched Hans, watched his face for any microexpression, anything that would let her know he was choosing mercy. She knew if he did, then she would never see Anna again in her lifetime - but she would be damned if she let her teammates be executed for following her. She had caused enough blood to be spilled; she decided to draw the line. No more death on her account.

Hans, it seemed, had already decided. He smirked, but there was no warmth in it. " _That's an astoundingly moving plea for clemency, Valkyrie Leader. Would you like to know a secret?"_ He cocked his head in the way a scientist would when observing an experiment. " _I was never going to spare your team."_

"You contemptible prick," Rapunzel spat. "You disgusting waste of-"

" _On my mark, open fire."_

Elsa turned and looked into the eyes of the three women staring back at her. Each face wore a mask of fear, pain and regret, of confusion and incomprehension. They were about to die, and barely even knew why. She swallowed slowly and tried to hold back the welling of tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she murmured, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry."

" _Three…"_ Hans began the countdown. Elsa looked down at his image on the screen - if she was to die, then she would die looking into the eyes of her killer.

It was then she noticed how the image flickered and tore, and when he announced, " _Two",_ the number was so garbled she barely caught it. Frowning, she watched as his image rapidly pulled itself apart, as though an invisible force had reached into the screen and yanked his body in opposite directions, replacing it with the words _CONNECTION TERMINATED._

"Great," Astrid drawled with razor-sharp sarcasm, "it's not bad enough they're gonna kill us, they've got to jam us, too."

"Not just that," Merida murmured, gesturing lamely at the centre console, "but they've jammed our sensors, too."

"I don't think it matters in the-" Elsa began, but a sound she never thought she would hear again graced her ears from the direction of the _Valhalla's_ nine o'clock. Her eyes widened, and her heart - which until that moment had frozen solid - raced with a thunderous beat.

She twisted round to peer through the port side of the cockpit windshield, just as Rapunzel scrambled to look out of the porthole. "Hold back on that apology, Elsa," she said with glee, "because I spy two dashing princes on our nine o'clock, coming in fast and hot."

"Is that…?" Elsa whispered, catching sight of the _dashing princes_ Rapunzel was referring to, feeling relief wash over her like a wave. A winged creature as black as the night, and a white-haired man with a staff of blue light.

"Ayep," Rapunzel said, grinning widely.

"Are they…?"

"Ayep."

For there was only one team whose arrival was heralded by a banshee-like shriek.


	38. I Have a Plan: Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For added awesome - "Iron Man 3" and/or "Battle Finale", by Brian Tyler from the Iron Man 3 OST.

" **I Have a Plan: Attack"**

Self-exploding drop ships.

Jack thought he'd seen it all, but _that_ was new. For a _Hela_ to explode despite none of the red pulse bolts coming into contact with it, he wondered two things: either Unity was being _extremely_ frugal with their aircraft construction materials, or they'd made things easier on the Ghosts by making _Helas_ that fell apart if you so much as glared at them.

That thought, while amusing, was nowhere near as important as the question of why the _Valhalla_ fired a warning shot at the drop ship in the first place. Last he checked, Unity craft didn't go around taking potshots at their own side.

Then _that_ particular thought went flying out of his head into the blue sky when seven _Einherjars_ and a cloud of drones surrounded the stationary _Valhalla._ He stared bewilderedly at the unfolding scene, wondering just why the hell Unity fighters were moving into attack formation against the team who were the poster-girls for the military - _The Valkyries lead the way, you could follow. Join the Army, for a better world!_

Something must have happened for the _Valhalla_ to be in such a position.

Hiccup's voice came through his earpiece, in a rather upbeat drawl considering he was probably rudely awoken from a nap. " _On your six, chief."_

Jack swivelled around; sure enough, sat astride Toothless' huge scaly body, a masked and goggled Hiccup approached in a lazy forward crawl to hover near his side, his unruly hair dancing in the wind. Each flap of Toothless' left wing buffeted Jack sideways, so with a grumble under his breath, he gently moved forward. " _So, what's up? I mean, you were awfully specific about where I should be."_

Jack said nothing and simply pointed down towards the collection of aircraft. " _Ah,"_ Hiccup said. " _Well, you don't see that every day."_

"You should've seen when the other drop ship went kaboom for no reason."

Hiccup's incredulity was audible. " _They what? Man, Unity really are cheap. Self-exploding drop ships. What a waste. Any idea why?"_

Jack shrugged, but relayed to his second-in-command everything he'd missed until that point. Hiccup seemed enthusiastic about the mystery of the two ships chasing each other and the spontaneously exploding _Hela - "Gotta be a bomb. Probably rigged it to explode as soon as their sensors registered weapons fire" -_ though Jack wasn't surprised. Hiccup _loved_ puzzles.

" _Well it's pretty obvious Unity's gonna take them out, so what's the plan?"_

The sixty-four thousand credit question - what should he do? "I dunno," he answered, "I was thinking about letting them burn."

There was truth in that. A good part of Jack wanted the _Valhalla_ to be ripped to pieces and fall to the earth like metallic rain, rationalising it as karma, and though he wouldn't _kill_ them, he didn't have to _save_ them. He could let it play out, then fly on back home. Of course, he would have some serious explaining to do.

" _Nah, you weren't."_ Apparently Hiccup moonlighted as a mind-reader. " _Wanna know what I think?"_

Jack groaned loudly. "Not really."

" _I think you didn't call me up here with the signal jammer just to watch some fireworks. I think in your heart, you want to save them. I think that in spite of what they've done to us, you're still a good person, and if you had the power to save them but didn't, you would hate yourself for the rest of your life."_

There was an element of smug confidence to Hiccup's speech that made it hard for Jack to _not_ clang his staff over his head to make him feel better. "I can live with that," he said, attempting some form of indifference. Annoyingly, though, Hiccup was right on the money.

" _Maybe, but I think you won't need to. Not because of Streak... but because saving them is the right thing to do,"_ Hiccup finished, intensifying the desire for wanton staff-related violence.

"You know, Night Fury?" Jack snarked with a voice of irritation, "Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect moral compass. Or your perfect teeth. I'm easy."

Hiccup burst into laughter. Jack cast him a glance over his shoulder; the rider's entire body bounced with the giggles in between bobbing up and down with every flap of Toothless' wings. For a moment, the comedy threatened to infect Jack too, until Hiccup's know-it-all voice came back. " _It's why you love me. So what's the plan, chief?"_

Jack turned back to the unfolding scene. It wouldn't be long before the action started, and he knew it. "I dunno," he said, shrugging. "Something stupid. Something heroic. Bit of both?" He turned to give Hiccup a look as though his masked face would in some way convince him it wasn't the former. "Bit of both."

" _Still, something stupid and-or heroic needs a plan of attack, Frost."_

"I have a plan." Jack turned back to the mess of fighters and drones. "Attack."

Without allowing himself a second thought Jack summoned a blast of wind behind him and shot like a bullet down toward the drones. The two of them had planned several years ago that in the event of air combat, Jack was spectacularly useless against _Helas_ and _Einherjars_ but effective versus drones, and Hiccup was the reverse, so Jack would take drones and Hiccup took on anything bigger. He hoped that, in his admittedly overconfident declaration of his sorry excuse for a plan, Hiccup remembered.

Otherwise, it would be a very short battle.

* * *

He was like a meteor.

Elsa watched, rapt, as a second before he shot through the cloud of drones, Frost thrust forward his staff to let loose a storm of icy lightning that sought and destroyed several of the tiny craft. She watched them fall from the sky; they were intact, but ice was the bane of many a pilot. Still, the sight of a half a dozen forks of blue light was something to behold, and the remaining drones peeled off and hurtled after him.

A second later, the cockpit and cabin was filled with a blinding yellow light. Elsa twisted to her left so violently her neck screamed at her, but was treated to the sight of one of the _Einherjars_ being consumed by an amber ball of flame, and the impossibly fast black blur of Night Fury. The ship jostled with the air turbulence of Night Fury passing under her, accompanied by two pairs of feet rushing to the other side belonging to two excited schoolgirls. " _Einherjars_ are peeling off and going after Night Fury," Rapunzel said, relaying the scene to Elsa.

"Two Ghosts versus six fighters and at least a dozen drones, tha's not great odds," Merida added.

Elsa was about to point out how the Ghosts made a living by defeating the odds when a shadow fell over the cockpit. Her eyes sought the source, and she caught sight of Frost hovering in front of them and frantically gesturing toward the east with his free hand, before his head moved to something at his right, forcing him to zip off again. Two seconds after that, a wall of drones hurtled across the cockpit, spewing hundreds of bolts after him.

"Rapunzel, Merida, hold onto something!" she shouted, before shoving the propulsion lever forward and dipping the _Valhalla_ under the cloud of death pursuing Frost. The ship lurched into motion, prompting Rapunzel to squeak a surprised, " _Whoa, nelly!"_ before she wrenched the stick to her right. The _Valhalla_ obediently banked until she was on an easterly course.

"You know," Astrid remarked, her eyes glued to the rear view screen and the unfolding battle, "I reckon the signal jamming was thanks to the Ghosts."

"Means the _Einherjars_ can't co-ordinate, and they can't call for reinforcements," Elsa grinned, "nor can they say they're under attack."

It was then she remembered something else the jamming would influence, something that would make their escape wholly pointless should they survive. "Everyone, take off your body armour," she ordered.

Astrid shot her a look as confused as her voice. "Wait, what?"

"Hans had the armour fitted with vitality-tracking software for the Purge. It might still be active, so take it off."

Immediately after the warning, there was a scurrying sound of activity within the _Valhalla._ Casting three quick glances to make sure everyone understood, Elsa was vaguely amused to see the haste with which her team scrambled to pull off their energy-dissipating armour, the chest plate first. Rapunzel acted as though it was burning her. Turning back, Elsa flicked on the autopilot, disconnected the safety harness and set to work on her own suit. "Merida, once we're done, I want you to take one of the supply satchels, put our armour into it and shove a breaching charge in there, too. Throw it out of the ship and blow it up."

* * *

Jack took one look at the fleeing _Valhalla_ as he flew full speed around the battle, in between weaving left and right to dodge the pulse bolts. "All right," he yelled over the mask's microphone, "they're out of danger."

Though he found it odd that something was thrown from the open embarkation hatch and disappeared in a small explosion barely visible against the sky.

" _Yeah, well we're firmly_ in _danger!"_ Hiccup yelled back. Jack looked to his right where Toothless was turning and rolling with astounding manoeuvrability to avoid the hail of pulse fire aimed at him. " _They're all on my six, and I can't line up a shot!"_

Jack immediately banked right and dived, turning his body into a javelin. He pointed himself directly in Hiccup's path. "Fury, fly three o'clock high, and go right for me. We're gonna play chicken."

" _What?! Are you insane? I'm not playing chicken with you!"_

Jack yelled back as Toothless advanced on him at a terrifying speed, "Well I'm coming atcha. You can either turn or we can hit each other! Ready?"

" _Not like you're giving me a choice! We're going right, right?"_

"Right!"

" _That's what I said! Right!"_

Heart racing and thundering with adrenaline, Jack yelled out something unintelligible over the comms - oddly, mixing with the _same_ sound blaring out of his earpiece courtesy of Hiccup - and wrenched his body to the right just as Toothless did the same with a rush of black and a panicked roar. Their bodies were so close, Jack nearly felt the scales of his paws brush across his chest. He quickly glanced over his shoulder mid-turn, and cheered with glee when the drones chasing him, unable to pull out in time, crashed into the lead _Einherjar_ like deadly rain. Miniature explosions dotted its hull, and its starboard engine blew apart with a resounding boom as a result of metal shrapnel clogging its intake.

" _Okay, I'll admit it: that was awesome. Looks like they're splitting up."_ Jack soared on, glancing at the lead fighter as it fell to earth, and then at Hiccup as he dived to avoid another hail of fire. True enough, two of the five _Einherjars_ peeled off the pursuit. Turning on a dime, they pointed themselves squarely at Jack, and with their engines roaring loud enough to subdue the howling of the wind in his ears, charged toward him.

Jack took a quick _yikes_ gasp and willed the wind to put him at full speed - an _Einherjar_ versus him was the equivalent of a rifleman against a tank. "Welp, looks like I made them angry!" he yelled over a lurching stomach and constricted chest. Red bolts whizzed past him, close enough to be considered an alternative method of shaving. "Yep! Definitely angry!"

He rushed on, even pulling a breath-halting loop-the-loop to try and get behind the two pursuing craft. Not to be caught out, they immediately split up and circled around him before he had even completed his loop. He hissed a curse in his mind. "Oh, these guys are good," he wheezed.

" _Yeah, no kidding. Don't forget, you've got ice."_

"What's _that_ gonna do?"

Hiccup sounded downright bewildered in his reply as though the answer was common knowledge. " _Um, freeze the ailerons, flaps - you know, flighty stuff that makes planes go whoosh?"_

Jack's brow rose and he made an " _aaaaaah"_ sound as Hiccup's meaning dawned on him. He immediately put himself in a vertical position and spread his arms and legs out, and the wind rushed at his face equal to that which was propelling him, stopping him dead in the air so abruptly it felt like his organs were about to burst through his chest. The _Einherjars_ weaved to avoid him as they rushed past, splitting off in opposite directions. Seizing the opportunity, Jack threw himself after the leftmost fighter, banking and turning with it at a steeper circle. He carefully closed in on it until he could easily read the warning labels in yellow and black near its twin ionic thrusters. He aimed his staff at the starboard flaps and channeled a sustained burst of blue lightning at the wings. Ice spread along its ailerons that hardened the longer he fired and, rolling sideways, he stuck again on the port wing, then finished with the rudder. Bereft of the ability to steer, the _Einherjar_ helplessly charged forward at full speed. "It's all yours, Fury!" he yelled, before breaking off to stay one step ahead of the second pursuing fighter.

" _Much obliged!"_ was Hiccup's answer, and a few seconds later Jack heard an ear-piercing shriek followed by a thunderous _boom,_ dutifully accompanied by a brilliant burst of amber light. " _Three down, four to go!"_

* * *

Elsa was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes on the sky ahead, given she was constantly glancing down to the rear view screen every few seconds. The further away they flew, the more Astrid manually zoomed the image in so they couldn't miss a thing - the rather suicidal chicken manoeuvre where Frost and Hiccup caused a fighter to collide with a dozen drones was particularly gasp-inducing to the team. Several times Elsa had to remind them it was an _actual_ battle with _actual_ people.

But it felt wrong. There the Ghosts were, risking their lives against superior odds and firepower, relying on their wits, agility and immovable will to fight - and there the Valkyries were, fleeing the battle. It was Frost's emphatic suggestion they should do so, but it didn't stop the sensation of discomfort from gripping her chest and stomach.

Another gasp ripped through the cockpit, and Elsa looked back at the screen just in time to see Night Fury's creature swoop down onto one of the _Einherjars_ and literally roll with it, then use the resultant momentum to fling it away and finish it with a blue torpedo of flame. She glanced up at Astrid, who wore the most gleeful grin she had ever seen. "I guess now we know why we could never beat them," Rapunzel said.

Elsa couldn't take it anymore. She secured the safety harness tightly around her black vest-covered torso with a downward jerk and frowned resolutely at the sky ahead. "Astrid, where did you come in the air-to-air combat simulations?"

Astrid gave her an odd look. "Top one percent, why?"

"Activate the cannons." She turned to face Merida and Rapunzel as Astrid pressed the relevant button. "You two strap in and find something to hold onto."

"Why?" Merida asked, her voice fading slightly as she did what she was told.

"Does it strike anyone as fair we are running away while the men are doing the heavy lifting?" she asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question than anything else.

It got an answer. Astrid, grinning with dark glee, said, "No. No it doesn't."

"Good," Elsa announced brusquely, "because _damsels-in-distress_ isn't in the Valkyrie job description. I intend to take the _Valhalla,_ " she paused as she rested her hands on the speed lever, "and shove her down Unity's throat."

"Ready," Astrid declared, a sentiment repeated by the other two members. Elsa let out a quiet breath through her lips, and then yanked back on the lever as she wrenched the stick to the left.

The _Valhalla_ lurched to starboard, the sudden change in speed and direction shoving her in the opposite side so hard, the straps of the harness felt like they were cutting into her chest. Not to mention the air being forced out of her lungs. She gritted her teeth, focusing on the next step to ignore the pain of the drop ship's violent fishtail. Quicker than she expected, the _Valhalla_ did a perfect one-eighty, aimed squarely at the battle like a giant missile. Elsa pulled the stick back to the centre and stared at the dogfight with purposeful eyes.

"For Aurora," she murmured - and shoved the lever down.

* * *

Jack shot another glance over his shoulder as he took a sharp left turn and cursed aloud - the pursuing _Einherjar_ was still firmly on his six like a particularly tenacious tick. No matter how many times he swooped and dived, rolled and banked, the fighter still kept on his tail. It even dodged an intercepting shot from Toothless and ignored the easy chance to return fire in favour of relentlessly hounding Jack.

"Goddammit, this guy is annoying me," he snarled. "Some help would be _fantastic_ right now!"

" _I'm trying!"_ Hiccup yelled back over the comms, " _but they're blocking me every time I try to help!"_

Jack made a growl of frustration and shot another quick glance - which was when his eyes widened in fear along with the yell of another curse. Panicking, he flattened his body and channeled his fear into speed; the _Einherjar_ had launched a missile, and it was hurtling after him. "Fuck!" he shouted, "incoming missile on my six!"

Turning his body into a streamlined arrow, he pushed the limits of his body and shot through the air. His internal organs felt like they were being squeezed into his feet, and his neck screamed at him, in danger of snapping backwards. He banked to the left and glanced over his shoulder - the missile was still firmly on his tail, seeking his body heat. From somewhere near his pelvis, his stomach felt like it was being twisted into a ribbon; it was gaining on him. With its red tip and blue jets bursting from its thrusters, it slowly crept up on him even as he reached the limits of his speed. If the warhead in its tip touched his boot, Jack would be nothing more than a cloud of crimson and falling limbs. Hell of a way to die, but he wasn't planning on dying _yet._ Gritting his teeth, he turned his head back and attempted a wide barrel roll, disorienting enough especially with the many glances over his shoulder to check if the missile had lost its lock.

Which it hadn't and was even _closer._

The voice in Jack's mind issued a multitude of curses too potent for any child to hear. "I can't shake him!" he wheezed over the comms, as the G-forces were playing havoc with his lungs. "It's too fast!"

As if he needed further bad news, he realised precisely _why_ the missile was so easily keeping up with and bearing down on him, aside from the reason for its existence. The wind, the very thing keeping him airborne and supporting his agile manoeuvres was also indirectly assisting the missile. The faster Jack flew, the harder the wind pushed him _and_ the missile. When it coaxed him to the side for a sharp turn, so too did it push the missile.

" _I can't get to you!"_ Hiccup roared over the comms. " _Every time I try to break off, they intercept me! They're trying to split us up! You've gotta shoot it down with your staff!"_

"What the hell's that gonna do?!"

" _It's not like you have a choice! Shoot it! Shoot it now!"_

Jack vocalised a prolonged roar of anger and twisted his body to point his staff behind him. With hands that shook out of fear and the flooding of adrenaline, he aimed as best he could - with a tiny profile, the chances were slim. Icy lightning burst from the tip and cascaded toward the missile, one quick shot.

The missile was unaffected, and unrelenting. "Fuck you!" Jack yelled as he shot off another blast, one he wasn't even sure connected. Still, it rushed on, and over the howling of the wind in his ears he could hear the light _whoosh_ of its thrusters. He rolled his entire body, blindly flying backwards while he held the staff in both hands. What cognitive thought he possessed, he channeled into his fingertips and prepared to let fly with the strongest blast he could, one he prayed would have at least _some_ effect.

Rain fell from above. For a terrifying second, Jack panicked that Hiccup had been hit and his blood was raining down upon him, until he saw the rain punch through and rip the missile to shreds, causing it to erupt with a dull _thoom_ into a ball of amber flame. Bright, glorious red that rained down from the sky in a hail of bolts, followed by the roar of four ionic thrusters and a huge black shadow across his vision. Gaping, he watched in stunned surprise as the _Valhalla,_ the ship they were attempting to save hurtled past him and flew on toward the _Einherjar_ that launched the missile. Thousands of red bolts shot forth from the twin cannons in her nose, each one tearing into the fuselage of the _Einherjar,_ a split second before it ripped itself apart in a thunderous burst of flame.

"Sonofa-" he hissed, having realised just _who_ saved his ass.

The _Valhalla_ swung out toward the frenetic dogfight in the distance where Hiccup was pulling neck-breaking turns and rolls to avoid being the victim of his own target lock whilst simultaneously trying to evade bolt fire, so much so he was too busy trying to stay alive to return fire.

"Fury!" Jack yelled, not bothering to hide the shakiness in his voice courtesy of a rush of adrenaline and victory, "the _Valhalla's_ incoming, weapons hot on your two o'clock! Quit dancing and line 'em up for her! Turkey shoot!"

" _The Valhalla?! The hell are they doing back here?"_ was Hiccup's irritated snap.

Jack thrust himself after the dropship, feeling a renewed sense of urgency and strength. Whether he liked it or not, their rescue had been turned into a stalemate and looked like they would have failed, had Snow Queen not turned her ship around and charged into the fray. "Hell if I know! Just swing around - wide circle, full speed!"

" _Copy. Swinging around."_

* * *

"Pretty sure she's not built for dogfighting…" Rapunzel groaned. Elsa could tell she was trying her damndest to hide the queasy waver in her voice, and was utterly failing. There was likely to be a green tinge to her cheeks as well.

Astrid didn't miss a chance. Playful teasing in her voice, she asked, "The _Valhalla,_ or _you?"_

"Both…" Rapunzel wheezed. Elsa almost pitied her. She made a sound behind a covered mouth, gulped awkwardly and asked, "Did we save Frost?"

"Yes we did," Elsa smiled. "I'm sure he'll hate that."

Astrid burst out with mocking laughter, abruptly enough to cause Elsa to shoot her a confused glance. Only, it was the back of Astrid's head that received the look. "Well you can find out for yourself." Astrid turned and displayed a mischievous smirk, a twinkle in her eyes as she thumbed out of the port cockpit window. "He's right there."

Frowning, Elsa leaned forward and peered past her teammate; true enough, a few feet away flew Frost, his body flat like a dart and his snow white hair flat against his head thanks to the rushing air. His face, obscured by his snowflake mask and goggles swiveled to rest on Astrid, who cheekily blew him a kiss and waved.

His response was a middle finger.

"Well, that's gratitude for you," Astrid grumbled. "We stop a missile from making him Frost-paste, and he flips us the bird. Charming."

Elsa looked back at the unfolding battle, conscious of the fact they were about to reach weapons range, and she noticed Night Fury in the midst of something odd. Rather than pulling loop-the-loops and barrel rolls that made her stomach churn by just _looking_ at them, he was entering a wide anti-clockwise turn that left him wide open to target locks. The pursuing _Einherjars_ turned with him, spraying bolts of red in his path that he elegantly avoided. "What _is_ he doing?" she asked, tilting her head and frowning in bemusement.

She understood his tactic when the fighters locked into a wide turn of their own, setting them up in a haphazard line. "Astrid!" she called. "He's lining them up for us. Get ready to fire!"

Astrid inhaled a sharp breath in surprise and attempted to cover it by quickly adjusting in her chair. "Got it," she said loudly, as a pair of crosshairs materialised in the windshield.

Night Fury's turn took him directly in front of the _Valhalla,_ the creature's wings spread wide at a ten-to-two angle. There was a click, barely audible over the roar of the ship's engines, and red bolts hailed out from the nose in a fierce onslaught. The first fighter, taken completely by surprise, was ripped to shreds by the deadly rain and splintered apart like meteors of shrapnel.

Which left the second - who had the advantage of reacting quicker than the first. It sharply banked to the right, on a heading that took it directly in the path of the _Valhalla_ and let fly with its own pulse cannons _._ Elsa's eyes widened whilst her lungs sucked in an involuntary gasp, and she barely wheezed out, "Hold on!", before wrenching the stick to the left. The _Valhalla_ quickly obeyed - but not quickly enough.

The thudding of pulse bolts into her hull bled into a screeching and repetitive high-pitched alarm, and the cockpit flashed with a deep and regular red. The sounds of the console beeping with a multitude of tones and rhythms filled her ears, and the _Valhalla_ shook with enough force to lift her an inch into the air and force her against her harness.

"Fuel line to the port engine's been ruptured!" Astrid yelled over the ear-piercing screech of the _Valhalla's_ alarm system as she frantically pressed the switches on the console between the cockpit seats, desperately trying to compensate for the damage by diverting the energy through the secondary lines, "We've lost power to the port side - I can't compensate!"

Elsa wrenched the stick to the left with all her might, gritting her teeth with the effort. The Valhalla resisted and disobeyed, feeling heavier on the stick by the second. "I'm losing control of her!" she shouted. "Altitude's dropping!"

The Valhalla's port side dipped sharply, and Elsa found herself shunted to the right coupled with the rise of her stomach past her racing and thumping heart…

... all thanks to the inertia of the Valhalla as, bereft of her wing, she spun uncontrollably and plummeted down to the unforgiving earth.

Straining against gravity's grip and shoved to the left by the centrifugal force, Elsa forced her hand up to the two levers above her head, the effort feeling like she was pushing back a storm with just her strength. "Hitting the emergency thrusters!" she wheezed. The force of the _Valhalla's_ spin was filling her eyes and mind with a dizzy haze, and the relative weightlessness wasn't helping. Yanking down on the levers, she punched a blue button between them and tried to ignore the rising terror flooding her heart.

There was a dull, hoarse thunder barely audible over the deafening racket of the ship's alarm, and a noticeable force pushed against the port side as the thrusters, automatically calculating the momentum and direction of the spin, took effect. Less and less did Elsa feel like her blood was being forced out of the left side of her body, and her brain flooded with relief when she caught her breath. She glanced down at the console's instruments, and the fear was intensified at the sight of the altimeter's digits falling faster than the ship herself, and the horizon line threatening to punch through the top part of its dial. "It's not enough!" she yelled. "We don't have the angle for a crash landing!" - her point proven by the _Valhalla's_ nose aimed squarely at the green earth.

There was a light thud on the nose itself. "Look!" Astrid yelled. Elsa's head darted up, and her eyes widened with surprise.

Holding on for dear life, with ice encrusted around his feet and left hand, Frost knelt on the _Valhalla's_ nose. His black shirt and pants rippled in the vicious rush of air. Her ability to speak rendered useless both due to the feeling of her stomach being in a vice, and the sheer bewilderment of Frost perched on the _Valhalla_ itself, she saw him turn his head over his shoulder and make a ' _come on'_ gesture behind him. Rapunzel and Merida both groaned with nauseous pain, groans that abruptly became surprised shrieks when the sound of scraping, tearing metal reverberated throughout the ship. "What the hell is that?" Astrid yelled, craning her head to look behind her.

"It's Night Fury!" Merida called. Heart punching at her ribcage out of fear and adrenaline, Elsa's head swiveled over her shoulder. "Look up there!"

Elsa followed Merida's frantic pointing to where the port wall met the ceiling, and breathed a whispered curse when she saw what looked like _claws_ pierce through the metal and hook themselves in. "What the hell are they doing?!" the redhead said.

The creature Night Fury rode let out a long, strained howl, and it was then that Elsa understood. "Astrid! Pull back on the stick as hard as you can!"

The darker blonde stared at her in confusion. "What?"

Elsa pointed at the windspeed indicator between them where an arrow pointed directly up. "Frost is using the wind to slow our descent, and Night Fury's wings are acting as a parachute! We need to help them out, so pull back on the stick!"

"Holy shit," Astrid hissed, and repeated the same two words over and over again like a mantra as she hurriedly grabbed hold of the co-pilot's control stick and yanked back with all her might. Elsa found herself entranced by the sight of the ground, green in its splendour, as it rushed up to meet them.

Through Frost's mastery of the wind, Night Fury's wings and the fully deployed flaps, the _Valhalla's_ steep descent became a stomach-lurching semblance of a horizontal glide, and her deadly descent was noticeably slowed by the sheer force of nature guiding her down. Her heart thundered with fear and nerves, her lungs constricted to the point each breath was life-giving, but hope rushed to battle the panic. In the few seconds before touchdown, Elsa entertained the brief notion they might even _survive_ the ordeal.

" _BRACE FOR IMPACT!"_ she found the strength to shout, seconds before Frost leapt from the nose. Squeezing her eyes shut, she reflexively threw her hands up to protect her face.

With a shuddering _thoom,_ the drop ship slammed into the earth. With a gasp of pain and fright, Elsa found herself thrust forward into the safety harness with so much force her ribs felt like they would break under the intense pressure. The rumble of the ventral hull scraping against the hard winter earth filled the interior, deafening her to all but the sounds of their crash-landing. The ship groaned and shrieked in pain, jostling and shaking her passengers like dolls with every dip or rise in the earth, and with every stone in her path. There was no part of Elsa's body that did not contact some form of hard surface, and in a fleeting thought, she knew she'd be the proud owner of a dozen bruises in places she'd never thought _could_ be bruised.

The _Valhalla_ continued to scar the earth with her landing, but Elsa could feel the slowing effect as time quickly passed. The pressure on her chest lessened, and she no longer endured being jolted like a child shaking a present. The noise of soil being crushed and churned quietened down, until after what felt like eternity in a second, the _Valhalla_ came to an abrupt stop - hard enough to once more squeeze her into her harness straps before slamming her back into the chair.

Dazed, her body sore and her head aching thanks to the impromptu impact against the chair's headrest, Elsa panted heavily whilst the world came back to her. The wardrum rhythm of her heart lessened in intensity, and her body swayed with each breath. "Is…" she murmured, though out of lack of strength to speak with a voice higher than a quiet mumble in a crowded room, "is... everyone okay?"

"Aye…" Merida responded weakly. Rapunzel added a faint reply of the same.

"Astrid?"

"Dammit." Elsa heard Astrid hiss. Worry rushed her heart - had she been injured in the landing?

"Astrid, where are you hurt?" Elsa persisted.

The darker blonde glanced up at her with unfocused eyes, looking every bit as dazed as Elsa felt. "Hurt?" she murmured blankly. She slowly shook her head. "I'm not hurt."

"Then why d'ya say ' _dammit'?"_ Rapunzel winced. Elsa glanced over at the brunette, whose face was in her hands.

"Frost and Night Fury just saved our lives. Again."

"So?" Merida asked.

"That makes it two-one to them. I _hate_ owing people debts," Astrid grumbled, and promptly grimaced in pain as she pressed a hand to the back of her neck and craned her head back, ostensibly to loosen the stiffness.

"Doesnae matter, lass," Merida rebuked her. "We're alive. Tha's all ye need ta know."

Elsa, her cognitive thought returning to her with every passing second, was about to remark on Astrid's hypocrisy, given _she_ called Frost ungrateful not long ago, when the ear-piercing shriek of metal roughly scraping against metal filled her ears and caused her to wince. She looked irritably at the source of the noise - the embarkation ramp was opening. Daylight filled the passenger hold like an intangible splendorous warmth, answering the question her mind hadn't sharpened enough yet to ask - whether the crash had jarred the ramp's hydraulics. Watching the world open up over her shoulder, a gasp escaped her throat at the partial sight of the wide gash in the soil, deep enough to conceal a body if laid down. The _Valhalla_ had literally scarred the earth.

A voice came from the open hatchway. "Everyone okay in there?" Frost. His voice was a little shaky too, with none of the cocky confidence it possessed during the battle on the _Star's_ deck, nor the cold fury riding on each syllable like in the alleyway confrontation. Elsa breathed a sigh of relief - it could have been anyone opening the ramp.

"We're fine," she called back, slumping into her seat. "We're all fine."

Frost's answer was brusque, and possessed none of the relief or positivity Elsa would have expected from the reply, "Good."

A small object was thrown in. Spherical in shape, it was too heavy to bounce more than twice and only a few inches above the ground, and each impact sent a metal _clang_ around the ship's interior. Elsa frowned, her eyes automatically tracking the object as it rolled along the floor and bumped against Rapunzel's left foot - and with a gasp of horror, she realised what it was.

"Stun grenade!" she shouted in alarm and frantically scrambled to unclip the safety harness.

There was a sustained, artificial beep that sharply rose in pitch, and the cockpit was filled with a brilliant blue light.

* * *

With his right arm curled across his chest, hand clutching the staff, Jack leaned with his back against the _Valhalla's_ hull and inspected the nails of his left fingers while he waited for the grenade to detonate. It was underhanded and low, and he would be the first to admit it - but he trusted the Valkyries about as far as he could throw them.

His hair was blown flat against his head thanks to a sudden rush of wind, and his vision was treated to a contradictory dull burst of blue to the left of his vision, and the touchdown of something huge and pitch black in front of him. Looking up, his goggled eyes met with those of Toothless, who wore an expression of pure pride on his reptilian face while his wings folded in against his body. "Nice going up there, bro," he said.

"Thanks!" Hiccup swung his leg over and slid on his stomach down to the ground. "You weren't so bad yourself."

"I was talking to Toothless," Jack deadpanned.

"Oh, well _that's_ nice," Hiccup grumbled with deep sarcasm. Toothless puffed out his chest and wiggled his head in smug satisfaction. "Yeah, yeah. Make the most of it, big guy. You get all the credit, I swear."

Chuckling, Jack pushed off the hull, collapsed his staff and clipped it into his bracer. He jerked his head toward the _Valhalla's_ ramp. "C'mon, Sir Moan-A-Lot. Let's go meet the Valkyries."

Hiccup nodded and moved to follow him - Jack half-smirked at the sight of his legs occasionally being lifted off the ground and shaken like wet clothing. His limbs were much the same thanks to the adrenaline and the frenetic battle, hence him leaning on the ship's hull. He turned and circled into the _Valhalla's_ belly.

"What the-" Hiccup said, abruptly cutting himself off.

Rapunzel and Merida were both slumped against each other to the right, the latter's billowing red hair cascading across her face and pouring over Rapunzel's right shoulder. Astrid's head was concealed by the co-pilot's chair, though her left arm dangled over the floor, and the woman who asked him to call her Elsa was flopped over the right armrest. The interior was silent, at odds with the light hissing of the thrusters cooling in the outside air. None of them had removed their harnesses in time. Pocketing his hands, he watched impassively as Hiccup rushed past him and knelt down in front of Merida, putting two fingers against her carotid artery. After spending a good few seconds trying to scoop an insane amount of hair away, of course.

"She's out," Hiccup said.

"Thank you, Obvious Fury."

The sarcastic reply was completely ignored. "They must have passed out during the landing."

Jack slowly shook his head. "Nope."

Hiccup turned, and fixed him with a masked look. Even concealed by the mask and goggles, his confusion was obvious. "What do you mean, no?"

Jack folded his arms and tensed himself; it was even _more_ obvious what the subsequent reaction would be. "They're out," he said with a challenging tone, "because I knocked them out." He pulled out his left hand to lazily gesture at a space on the floor behind Hiccup. "Stun grenade."

Hiccup immediately walked towards him, arms spread wide. "What? Why'd you do that?" When Jack didn't answer and moved past him to the cockpit, eyeing the back of Elsa's head with a cold eye, he persisted, "They _did_ just save us, you know?"

Something in Jack snapped. He whirled around and swiped across the air as a brutal no-sell. "Valkyries do _not_ save Ghosts, Fury!" he hissed in vehement irritation. "Valkyries make it easier for Ghosts to save _them!_ These people were trying to kill us all a month ago, and now they're suddenly helping us out? I don't buy it."

Hiccup's arms fell to his sides, and his entire body seemed to slump in defeat - it wasn't like him to back down so easily. "But what about the damn _Einherjar_ wing surrounding her?"

Sighing with exasperation, Jack's hand went up to massage his forehead while his other hand rested on his hip. Ordinarily, Hiccup's morality and belief that there was good in everyone was uplifting and grounding, but he had no time for it. "I'm gonna be honest, Fury, I don't trust them. I don't trust the situation, I don't trust that what went up there is the real deal. It could all have been a ploy to draw us out of hiding, knowing we'd help. I can't take that chance. Not with Streak and her…" he stopped himself short of saying the word 'baby' over the comm line, which was still active even though they were stood merely a few feet away from each other, "... current condition."

Hiccup sucked in a breath as though to protest, but let out a reluctant sigh instead in another occurrence of uncharacteristic defeat. Jack wondered if he was actually on the same page and understood his point of view even if he didn't like it. Letting out a breath through his nose that burned his top lip as it flowed through the mask's respiration holes, he turned and rested his eyes upon Elsa's platinum blonde hair. "I want to know what's going on, and whether it's on the level or not - but not like this. It's gonna be on _our_ terms, on _our_ time, and in a place where _we_ feel safe. Where _we're_ in control, 'cause this situation is still unstable."

Hiccup studied him for a moment, resting his hands on his hips. "All right," he said after a few silent seconds. "What's the plan, chief?"

Nodding, Jack held two fingers to his left ear. "First things first - Streak, you reading me?"

" _Loud and clear, Frosty. What's the sitch? All good?"_

"Five by five. Gonna need you to get the table ready - we've got guests coming for dinner."

Anna's reply was nonchalant - which was unsurprising, as _guests for dinner_ meant something else entirely. " _Copy that. I'll get the best chairs and the rope. Dinner will be ready when you get here."_

"Roger. Over and out." He moved his fingers away, and gestured with the same hand to the four women, one by one. "We're gonna pull them out of here and take 'em back to the safehouse. We'll ask them what the hell's going on when they wake up there."

Hiccup's hand reached up to scratch the left side of his jaw. "Might need some nifty rope-tying, but we can do it. What else?"

Jack moved forward. His lower lip found its way between his teeth, and he chewed at it in self-hatred for what he was about to ask, considering how raw the pain still was. "Fuel cell overload. You said it vaporizes anything at ground zero, right?"

Hiccup nodded. "Yeah. Incinerates anything further out than twenty-five yards, but whatever's dead centre disappears. Why?"

"Can you replicate it?"

"What?" Hiccup's head tilted, and his forehead wrinkled in a clear frown. "Why would you…", he questioned, but a second later his head righted itself and relaxed as the meaning dawned on him. " _oh…"_

"Yeah." Jack twisted around and cast a long look over the damaged control console. "This ship, she's a write-off, so I'm gonna take one of the fuel cells. Maybe we can use it for the _Fairy._ The other - I want you to set up an overload, so all I need to do is hit a button. With any luck, we'll be forty clicks away and all Unity'll get is a smoking crater."

* * *

It took several tense minutes filled with anxious scans of the sky whenever Jack dragged the unconscious Valkyries out of the dropship, and more than a few rants under his breath at the dead weight - " _how can someone so slender be such a pain in the ass to pull!" -_ but eventually the four women had been moved several feet away from the embarkation ramp. He gently laid Elsa down on the ground with far more care than he ordinarily would any other enemy, and in an act that surprised himself, he used a finger to delicately brush away her blonde bangs from her eyes.

She was so calm, so peaceful, and he found himself entranced by that. Her lips were parted whilst her chest slowly rose and fell, and a light blush adorned her cheeks. He knew she couldn't be dreaming - unconsciousness did not allow for R.E.M. sleep, after all - yet he wondered if there was anything going on in her mind. He tilted his head as he stared at her; the sisterly likeness was uncanny, but he wondered if the slight differences like the lack of freckles were what was making his heart race a little, or whether it was his power going haywire in his chest, manifesting in a storm of tingling across the nerves, and the chill throughout his entire body.

"What are you doing?"

Jack jumped to his feet in surprise and whirled around to face Hiccup, who, despite the mask concealing his nose and mouth, conveyed enough suspicious confusion with his brown eyes as he stood, watching him with his arms folded. Burning, embarrassed red flooded his cheeks, and he took a moment to thank _his_ mask for hiding it. "Nothing," Jack said, with a touch more awkwardness than he would have liked.

"Uh-huh." Hiccup wasn't buying it.

A quick change of subject was needed - Hiccup getting an idea was the _last_ thing Jack wanted. "Did you set up the overload?"

"Yep." His _smirk_ was audible in his voice. Goddammit. "All you need to do is push the thruster lever to max. Power loop I created will take care of the rest."

"Good," Jack announced brusquely, clapping his hands to hopefully banish the previous subject. "Let's get airborne. I don't wanna waste another minute here."

Hiccup chuckled teasingly. "Why not? Don't you wanna-"

" _That's-enough-of-that-thank-you-kindly-get-your-ass-on-Toothless!"_ Jack rambled loudly as he stalked, beet-faced, into the _Valhalla's_ passenger hold intending to find rope.

Whether to facilitate the transport of three women and one rider on one dragon, or to truss Hiccup up like a turkey, shove an apple in his mouth and suspend him from the nearby trees was up for debate.

* * *

"Ow! Hey!" Hiccup winced and let out a wheezy breath when Jack jerked the knot tighter, taking particular pleasure in his schadenfreude-like revenge for the mild teasing moments earlier. Having lifted Astrid to sit in front of him and Merida to sit behind him, he had secured them all together with a tight loop of rope and a tighter knot, trusting in Hiccup to adapt to the added weight and movement restriction. Naturally, Toothless had made his discomfort with the idea of carrying three Valkyries known by issuing a long, low growl through bared teeth, one hell of a scowl and the raising of his hackles. It took a solid minute of talking from his human buddy to calm him down, and even _then_ he hated the idea. He probably would not talk to Hiccup or Jack for the rest of the day.

"What's the matter, Fury?" Jack smirked, checking Astrid's lower back was secured against Hiccup's stomach. "I thought you liked being tied up."

"Not really. Not one bit."

Jack sniggered to himself, and flashes of a certain night in a certain Valkyrie's bedroom filled his mind. "You don't know what you're missing."

Hiccup couldn't look away fast enough. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," he groaned.

Sniggers became outright dirty chuckles, and Jack was forced to avert his eyes and attempt to wave the scene away from his mind. "Oh man, I am _never_ gonna forget this," he said, though it was a miracle his words were discernible over his laughter.

"What?" Hiccup said in a loud, high-pitched voice.

Jack gestured lamely at the two Valkyries tied in front of and behind him, shaking his head. "Well, four years ago you weren't exactly confident around women. Now," he waved his hands in a haphazard circle as though framing the scene, "you've got this whole threesome with two hot ladies going on."

Hiccup's head swivelled between them, and from four feet away and at least a foot below him, Jack could easily spot the flood of crimson over his forehead. "Dammit, Jack!"

Jack bit his lip to act casual, and _not_ to burst into laughter as he went to the _Valhalla's_ cockpit. "No, really. It's like a Valkyrie sandwich with a fishbone filling."

"Great," Hiccup drawl-groaned. "I am _never_ gonna live this down. ' _Hey, where's Hiccup? Oh, he's a little tied up right now.'_ Thanks, Jack."

"You're welcome!" Jack called back from inside the ship. "Right - push lever for boom," he said in a quiet voice to himself. Bending over the pilot's chair, he grasped the lever's handle and wrenched it forward as hard as he could. The ship immediately vibrated under his feet, and a loud humming filled his ears, nearly drowning out the miraculously still-active A.I.'s warning of: _Fuel cell overload in progress. Catastrophic reaction in sixty seconds._

He didn't need to be warned twice. Darting out of the _Valhalla,_ Jack pulled his staff from his bracer and extended it, heading straight for Elsa's inert form. He dropped to his knees with enough force they sang out with a sore ache, and scooped her into his arms, bridal-style.

The regular _whoosh_ of air against the right side of his body was a clear sign Hiccup was taking off, and just as the wind gently lifted Jack and his cargo into the air, a quick glance revealed Toothless picking Rapunzel up with his paws and taking care to support her head. "All ready?" he called out.

"Ready!"

When the fuel cell overloaded forty-five seconds later, the two Ghosts and their guests were over two miles away - yet the explosion still burned the sky, shook the air and trembled the earth with its white-hot fury.

* * *

_"If I had known our four guests were four Valkyries, I'd have brought out the silverware."_

The voices were dull and muffled, like someone had covered Elsa's ears with soft pillows. She could barely pick out the words, never mind who the voices belonged to. Everything else was a mess of noise, a gelatinous pool of sound. Still, her hearing while impaired was doing an outstanding job of igniting the rest of her senses.

_"Yeah, well - we like our guests to still breathe, Pitch. No knives. Anyway, where's Streak?"_

The cold, crisp air as it flowed through her nose lit up her mind, and she slowly registered the scent riding on it. There was a musty smell. Woody, with a hint of dry sawdust. The voices sharpened, and she could pick out whose belonged to whom. _Frost. The other one... Astrid said he spoke with an English accent... Pitch Black? Yes, that's it. Pitch Black._

_"She's in the house. As soon as she found out you brought Snow Queen, she didn't want to be anywhere near her, so she went inside."_

Her limbs felt heavy, like iron had been clasped around them to weigh her down to the floor, though she quickly worked out her position - sat on a chair. "Anna…" she murmured, independently of her still-waking brain.

_"Shht. We've got company."_

The seconds passed, and more of her body was unlocked. She opened, flexed, and clenched her fingers, enjoying the sensation of returning to the world. Not enjoying the resurging blossoms of pain in different points of her body, and her mind tried its hardest to remember _how_ she got them - especially the dull ache in her forehead. She winced, groaning with the pain, and tried to massage her brow with her right hand.

Except there was a constricting sensation around her wrists that prevented her from moving. With her eyes still firmly shut, she willed her limbs to act, but the same sensation kept her arms firmly stuck - worse still, stuck behind her back. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach as the clues fell into place for one chilling conclusion: she was tied to a chair. The _Ghosts_ had her tied to a chair.

Armed with the knowledge, she pushed one last time to open her eyes, and though they felt like lead weights were attached to her lashes, light and shapes filled her vision. The blurry outline of a huge room with humanoid shapes directly ahead and to the side of her sight, silhouetted by a bright artificial glow from above them. She blinked over and over again to gain control of her lids, which had the added effect of wiping away the thick haze.

There he was, sat straddling a chair with his arms resting on its spine, and the same weapon in his right hand as the one he pointed at her in the alleyway. His head was cocked, his ice-blue eyes boring into hers, and a ghost of a smirk curled his lips.

Frost.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

* * *

_Location: Classified_   
_Date: Classified_   
_Time: Classified_

Inmate Three-Five-Six, shoved through the doorway into the brick prisoner barracks, stumbled on the lip of the magnetic seal. He hit the ground with a grunt of pain derived both from the wind being forced out of him, and the booby-trapped metal collar inextricably clamped around his neck. The coarse, scratchy, thin brown blankets tumbled from his grip onto the dusty floor. Wincing, he pushed himself up from the brick ground just as Three-Five-Seven surged over him with a growl of "Leave him alone!"

Then there was the _zzzt_ sound of an electro-baton being activated, and Three-Five-Seven stopped instantly - though the rage was easily caught in his heavy breathing. "Gimme a reason, scum," the guard snarled.

"Hey," Three-Five-Six wheezed, gesturing to calm Three-Five-Seven down. "Don't antagonise them."

"Listen to your buddy, freak. He knows his place," chuckled another guard, who then yelled out, "Close 'E' barracks!"

The magnetic door slammed shut and then locked itself with a _thud_ , trapping them in the barely lit barracks, trying to ignore the smell of stale body odour, urine and blood. Nothing short of a tank would open that door unless someone hit the master button over in the security hut. Three-Five-Six pushed himself up to his feet, but starvation and the serum had made him weak - his legs gave way.

Three-Five-Seven was there instantly, with an arm looped around his back, using his greater body weight to support him. Three-Five-Six, once his head had stopped spinning, looked weakly up at him and offered a feeble smile. Like him and every other inmate in the camp, Three-Five-Seven's head was completely shaved, and a collar was fastened around his neck that pumped serum into his blood at six hour intervals. His clothes consisted of a bright orange boiler suit, and as his eyes drifted down out of sheer exhaustion, he caught sight of the identification number tattooed with luminescent ink on his inner right forearm: _CSC-0357._

His was _CSC-0356._ "Thanks, buddy."

"No problem," Three-Five-Seven answered, returning a wry but supportive smirk.

Helped on the way, Three-Five-Six slowly went to a spare bunk bed - a concrete slab protruding from the wall, dusty and stained with something he tried not to think about. "Mind if I have the bottom bunk?"

Three-Five-Seven chuckled. "Just this once."

Three-Five-Six gingerly sat on the edge of the 'bed', and used his diminishing weight and exhaustion to see-saw his legs up - though he was grateful for the hands of Three-Five-Seven lifting his feet. As expected, the 'bed' was tough and unforgiving, but after being on his feet for eighteen hours and sat for a further three, the concrete felt like a luxury mattress. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, and heard Three-Five-Seven move away for a few moments before returning with the dropped blanket and pillow. Three-Five-Six, too frail to do anything else, allowed Three-Five-Seven to lift up his head and shove a pillow under it, and then cover him with the sorry excuse for a blanket. Sleep looked _really_ good. "Thanks, man."

He heard Three-Five-Seven's foot step with a light scrape onto the ladder at the end of the bed, and found his last bit of energy to call out his name.

"Kristoff?"

Three-Five-Seven froze. "What?"

It took Three-Five-Six a few moments to summon the energy to speak again - he hadn't thought that far ahead. "You think we'll ever see them again?"

There was a beat of silence, broken only by the long, thoughtful, resigned exhalation of breath.

"I don't know, Eugene." Kristoff said. "I really don't know." The sound of a foot touching the floor softly echoed around the bunk, and Eugene felt the supportive tap of a hand on his exposed feet. "But I'll tell you what, we just have to hold on to the one thing they can't take away from us."

"What's that?" Eugene murmured sleepily.

Kristoff chuckled once, and said, "Hope."

 


	39. So Shall Ye Reap (Death of the Valkyries)

**"So Shall Ye Reap (Death of the Valkyries)"**

 

_Location: Ghost Safehouse_

_Date: December 5th, 2073_

_Time: 19:30_

 

The bindings around Elsa's wrists were tied tight enough to restrict all movement and eliminate wriggle room, yet not enough to cut off circulation to her hands and reduce her fingers to a melting mess of pins and needles. As the post-unconsciousness haze lifted from her mind, the same sensation of restraint around her lower legs made itself known - she wasn't going anywhere. She tried to strain against the bindings, grunting lightly with the effort, but the only things that moved were her shoulders.

Frost, in his usual and wholly infuriating way, was nonchalant and even mildly amused. He leaned back a little and turned his head over his right shoulder to address a man leaning against a thin supporting pillar. He had shaggy brown hair, and a mask covered the rest of his face. "It's so weird how you run into people on your way to the store," he said, like it was an _actual_ peculiarity. "Isn't it, Fury? Feels weird, doesn't it?"

"Yep," said Fury. "Definitely weird."

"Where am I?" Elsa asked quietly, her eyes moving between the two men whilst she carried on trying to wriggle out of the restraints. Almost as soon as the question was asked, she heard a murmur from her right along with a groan of pain. She glanced over at the source - Astrid was stirring, wincing heavily with undoubtedly a similar headache.

Frost's reply was predictably flippant. "In our secret underground lair, where we indulge ourselves in dramatic and evil laughter while plotting the downfall of the glorious Unity utopia. We have fake moustaches we like to twirl, and I think Pitch even has a cat."

There was a voice from the shadows at Frost's left, a smooth, English voice that, if it were possible, set Elsa even further on edge. "Is everything a joke to you, Frost?"

He inclined his head as a silent acknowledgement. "Funny things are. Like," he adjusted his position, "how four Valkyries found themselves at the business end of Unity's guns, when I seem to remember them being the ones _pointing_ the guns."

Elsa glared at him, and tried one last time to loosen her bindings, whilst from her left a pair of groans reached her ears - it was evidently Rapunzel and Merida's turn to awaken. Frost's body trembled with silent chuckles, noticing her struggle. "Why are we tied up? We are no threat to you," she said.

Frost's smirk fell like a stone, and he jabbed a thumb behind him. "I've got a long scar on my back that says otherwise, Snow Queen."

"Oh, come _on!"_ Astrid groaned with a hoarse voice. "You can't seriously be salty about something that happened in battle."

That time, it was Pitch who responded... and his tone was thick with contempt. "Quote - _this is for dislocating my shoulder, you bastard._ You said that to me, Viking, while you were trying to kill me in front of a fourteen year old."

Elsa immediately shot Astrid one hell of a fierce glare that cowed even the headstrong Valkyrie. Astrid flinched and looked down, guilt and shame written on her face.

"So, here's how this works." Frost leaned forward so his chin was directly hovering over the chair's spine. "I ask, you answer. I hear anything I don't like, or if I feel the safety of my team is threatened-"

"No."

Elsa had no idea where her sudden surge of strength came from, but it was sorely welcome, and made Frost's dark eyebrows shoot into his hair. His head moved back in surprise, and his face wore an expression of deep irritation. "... _no?"_

Silence fell in the room, tense and awkward, like an elephant had moved in and parked itself in the corner to watch the show. The Ghosts looked incensed she would dare refuse, and she could _feel_ the anxiety radiating from Rapunzel. She turned away from Astrid and locked gazes with Jack, conveying as much resolve as possible. Oddly... the sensation of their shared staring seemed to lend itself to the losing track of time.

"I will tell you everything you want to know," she declared in a low yet calm, even voice, "but only after I see my sister."

Frost's eyes darkened, and he learned forward. When he responded, his lips barely moved, but the pique was obvious in the tone. "That's not how this works, Snow Queen. You don't get to make demands."

"This is the only one I will make. After that, I will answer all of your questions - I just want to see my sister. Please. That's all I ask," Elsa pleaded. It likely would have seemed odd to all present that Elsa switched from resolute to polite imploring, but she knew the only person who stood between her and Anna was Frost. Obstinacy would breed obstinacy, and whether she liked it or not, he had all the cards. "Please," she added. "All I ask is that you let me see her."

"She wasn't want to see you," Frost countered with a low voice, yet every syllable stabbed at her heart. "And I don't blame her. So-" he made a move to rise from the chair, "-it looks like this conversation's over. Pitch, you hang-"

"Wait."

All heads turned to the door. Elsa's heart skipped a beat, and she peered around Frost so abruptly her neck hurt - or at least, _tried_ to. Whoever tied the knots was good. Anna stood halfway through, judging by the light chilly breeze dancing around the room, and being at the cusp of the natural light hanging over their heads, she was partially shrouded in darkness. Her voice was unmistakeable, however. "Anna," she whispered, her mouth instantly curling in a smile.

Anna stepped forward into the light and closed the door behind her - which was when Elsa's smile fell. Her hair was tied in the same braided bun as it was during the Purge. Her face was impassive save for a gentle frown, and she wore nearly every article of their field operations clothing - fingerless gloves, utility vest, sidearm, and the pommels of her twin knives poking out from behind either side of her waist swayed back and forth as she walked toward them. Of the occupants in the room Elsa could not identify, Anna was the one most ready for battle. She didn't know what to make of that.

"Streak," Frost said, puzzled by her appearance. "I wasn't expecting you to come."

Anna stopped just behind him and crossed her arms, putting her weight on one hip. If Elsa didn't know better, she would have thought Anna was his bodyguard - the way the muscles in her arms tensed with her standoffish body language lent itself to that assumption. Her face, which Elsa noted with unsettled anxiety given it was _most_ uncharacteristic of her little sister, was still as impassive as it was when she walked through the door. She inhaled a breath through her nose, like she was working out her options. "Neither did I," she said after a moment of silence. She nodded her head at Elsa. "I'm here, you saw me. Talk."

For a few seconds, Elsa couldn't think of a thing to say. She didn't know whether it was that she was tied to a chair and it didn't bother Anna in the slightest, or that her once so bubbly and effervescent sibling was being taciturn and unreadable. She looked between her and Frost, who wore an expression of impatience. "We…" she began quietly, then realised there was no use in being meek about it, "We were betrayed."

"Shocking," Frost deadpanned.

Elsa let the sarcasm pass by and proceeded to explain everything. The cloned Ghosts, the clues she followed. The Purge. How Hans led her to believe it was the _Fairy_ she was following, and not the _Ragnarok._ How he engineered it so that his elder brother, and High Inquisitor Gothel would be on the _Ragnarok_ when it exploded, and that the Valkyries would be blamed. While she talked, she watched closely for Frost's reactions; he was largely unmoved and indifferent though there were a few moments where his lips curled up on one side with a derisive snort - the body language equivalent of " _saw that coming"._ When she told him of her plea to save the lives of her team, he looked mildly surprised as though he couldn't associate such an act with the woman in front of him. Maybe he still saw the vengeful Snow Queen rather than the altogether different Elsa Snowfield. Maybe Anna did, too. Two people, whose opinions she found herself oddly desperate to change.

"So you're saying you outlived your usefulness, and 'cause you knew too much, Hans wanted you dead. Am I right?" said Frost. Without waiting for an answer he looked up at Anna, and added, "Classic. I could write this stuff. So cliché."

Elsa threw a hearty glare at him. It was bad enough he was giving off an at best, nonchalant; at _worst,_ facetious attitude to the fact that four Valkyries were tied to a chair, with one of them relaying what could be euphemised as a moderately distressing situation where their lives had once again been flipped over. No, it was worse that he regarded it like some book plot.

He turned back to face her, and the humour washed away from his face like it was never there. Her glower didn't seem to faze him in the slightest; gathering information from someone tied to a chair carried with it a certain degree of facial negativity. He would probably be more puzzled if she was all smiles. When he opened his mouth, the reason behind his amused-to-stony expression switch was made clear. "Problem is, that doesn't exactly help your case. I still think that the battle was all a big ploy to get you here with us, so you can contact him and take us all down."

Astrid's reaction was so fervent, she rocked the chair with a scramble of clunks. "Seriously? We almost died up there and you still think we're the enemy?" she hissed angrily.

Again, Frost was unmoved, and he didn't even look at Astrid when he answered her question, choosing instead to maintain the staring contest he had with Elsa. "Yep. You just told me that everything from the word go was _all_ just so he could off his brother and take his job. Your parents. The takedown of our friends. The Purge. It was all one long play for him, a fucking _audition."_ Frost loudly scoffed. "Faking a battle to draw us out? Sounds exactly like something he'd do."

Elsa spoke with as much sincerity as she could. "I can assure you, everything I have told you is the truth. If you hadn't arrived when you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Frost snorted, rolling his eyes. "Uh-huh. Like I said - not helping your case."

No matter how much she protested their innocence - such as it was - it was clear Frost was far too suspicious to even entertain the idea that their timely save was not part of one big plan. She realised that to hold his attention, to jar the wall of protective paranoia he had built up just enough for him to believe her, she had to tell him something he didn't know. "Maybe what I have to say next will convince you otherwise."

He shrugged, quirking his lips. "Take your best shot."

Elsa took a breath, and a moment to prepare herself; she hadn't even told her team about Aurora because she was still trying to process the ordeal herself. Coming face to face with such a person, and then being asked to end their life was something she was still having trouble coming to terms with, in such a way that even thinking of the ethereal woman brought a lump to her throat. She looked up at Frost. "I know how Unity was so efficiently able to find and capture blooming abnormals."

Frost's eyebrows rose into his hair, and the mildest interest flashed across his face. Elsa caught sight of Night Fury and Pitch exchanging glances. "You do, huh?" he said.

"I do. Unity was using an abnormal."

Frost flinched, and stared at her in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth parted. All semblance of his prior casual attitude went out of the window - if the place they were in had one, she could only guess - and even Anna uncrossed her arms in surprise. Their expressions lingered for a few more seconds until Frost turned his head the smallest inch and warily watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Go on."

So she did. She told them the tale of Sleeping Beauty, or what she knew of it, at least. Everything she could remember - which was easy, as it was so fresh in her mind. Aurora's explanation of what happened to her over fifty years ago. How she was hooked up to a life-support machine that kept her under sedation whilst keeping her alive with nutrients and fluids, so Unity could probe her brain for the visions she had when she slept. That Unity and the A.A.S. used those visions to find and capture newly bloomed abnormals. She spoke of the self-hatred Aurora bore, that she was forced to aid Unity in the suffering of her kind, and of her wish to die.

Throughout the story, Frost's expression was almost painful to see. Disgust and horror was etched on his pale face, like the inhuman treatment and torture of Aurora physically hurt him, and his eyes radiated a look she couldn't decide between enraged or grief-stricken. When she glanced at Night Fury and Anna, their expressions were much the same - but she noticed how Anna's hand went to protect her abdomen.

Pitch Black had to leave the room.

"She asked me to end her life," Elsa said solemnly, barely above a whisper that was easily audible in such a silent room. "She didn't want to live another day like that and wanted to redeem herself in death. Without her, Unity can't track and capture abnormals anywhere as easily as they used to."

Frost looked down, a hollow look in his eyes. Though he gazed at somewhere in her midsection, she had the suspicion he wasn't really _seeing_ anything. "Did you do it?" he asked in a cracked whisper.

"Yes," Elsa said. "I carried out her request."

Frost's lower lip slipped between his teeth as he slowly nodded, like he was hoping she would say that. Maybe it was something _he_ would have done in her stead. He looked up at Anna, who regarded him with what panged Elsa's heart as a dual look of sympathy and sadness, and as she snuck another glance at her sister, a burning sensation lit itself in the pit of her stomach and crept to her chest when she saw how her hand rested in support on Frost's left shoulder.

He abruptly said, "Good." Elsa took a quiet but startled intake of breath, and realised she had been staring too long at Anna's hand. "No-one should have to live like that... so even though I can't believe I'm saying this: you did a good thing."

Elsa's brow gently rose; she didn't know what to make of that. If it was a compliment, it definitely sounded backhanded.

Frost exhaled loudly and rose from the chair as though dismounting a small horse and slipped the strange pistol into a holster on his right thigh. He turned and made his way to the door, with Anna and Night Fury following him.

"Hey!" Merida called out. "Are ye just gonna leave us still tied up here?"

"Yep." Frost turned his head over his shoulder as he opened the door. Elsa was dumbfounded; how could he do such a thing? "But don't worry - you'll still have company. Toothless?"

Almost immediately, as though it had been rehearsed, the shadows to the right of the door emitted a low, territorial growl and gave birth to a bright but gentle blue glow that quickly traced a long, curved line. Elsa felt a trickle of fear down her spine, one that intensified when the creature called Toothless, ostensibly Night Fury's mount, crept toward them like a stalking cat. Its eyes were narrowed and its pupils were thin slits, and its scaly mouth was pulled back to reveal something completely at odds with its name - a row of razor sharp-looking teeth. Rapunzel could not stop herself from squeaking a hoarse " _eek!"_ and shrinking into her chair.

Astrid, on the other hand, seemed to be nothing but fascinated. "Whoa," she breathed as the creature parked itself seven feet away between them and the Ghosts.

"Fair warning," Frost said as he nodded toward the beast, "the last time he opened up on a living thing, it took three days to clean the mess from the walls. Try not to piss him off."

Elsa, dumbfounded at Frost's casual audacity to put such a dangerous creature as their guard, wary of Toothless himself, and feeling her heart twinge and yearn to follow Anna, watched as they filed through the door and closed it behind them. She glanced down at the midnight black creature, who stared right back at her as he sat on his hindquarters.

"That went well," Astrid drawled.

Rapunzel was, as always, optimistic. "Could be worse," she said airily.

"Define ' _worse',"_ Merida threw a snarky jab.

Rapunzel displayed a rarely seen lack of tolerance. Her tone was challenging and low, and it was enough to distract Elsa from their lizard-like guard and give her an odd look. She was glaring at something on the floor, though Elsa got the sense she was preoccupied. "Worse, as in, we could be dead. Frost could've skipped the interrogation stage and gone to the ' _any last words'_ part. Or we could have been dropped in the nearest settlement and left to fend for ourselves. Which still might happen. Not to mention-"

"Alright, alright!" Elsa said loudly, attempting to calm the youngest Valkyrie down. Rapunzel anxiously glanced a few times at her. "We understand!"

Rapunzel gave her another quick look, and then her shoulders fell as she sighed. Whatever weight was on her mind, for the moment, was lifted. "Sorry," she said. "I... I'm just worried."

"Why?"

Rapunzel's eyes moved over to her, and they were heavy with concern. Something was distressing her, and it wasn't long before Elsa found out precisely what - or rather, _who._ "Eugene... I mean, Flynn Rider. He... uh... he's not here."

"Should he be?" Elsa asked.

Her thoughtful gaze moving back to the wooden, dusty floor, Rapunzel explained. "Well, I was kinda hoping so. I mean - he could be anywhere right now. He could be out on patrol, it's just... you'd think if he found out I was here, he would be, too. But I haven't seen him yet."

"You love him, don't you?"

Rapunzel's eyebrows bounced, and her lips curled into one of those honest smiles where someone has come to a happy realisation, one they didn't expect. "Yeah," she murmured with sincerity. "I think I do."

Elsa smirked, and would have teased her with a light nudge, had the rope around her wrist not ixnayed that idea.

"That's all well and good, Flower-Girl," Astrid said, killing the light humour that offset their dire predicament stone dead, "but can we even trust these guys?"

"We can," Elsa said resolutely, her tone leaving no room for argument. Which Astrid ignored.

"I'm breathless to hear your reasons, Elsa."

"To date, the Ghosts have never lied to us. Not once. They've maintained their innocence from the start, and as Merida rightly pointed out…"

Elsa hesitated - the memory of the recording had, like it was summoned by its mere mention, pushed its way to the front of her mind. Not only that, but the man responsible shared pride of place with the memory, and she found herself at a loss of what to say next. It was like the intrusive thoughts had deprived her of the ability to form words. She replayed the recording over and over in her mind, yet the faces belonging to the three Ghosts were all replaced with Commander Larsen's. A flicker of rage burned in her heart, at both herself for falling so easily into his silvery tones and allowing him to turn her into a deadly weapon, and at him for being so sociopathic that the death of his brother and countless people didn't bother him in the slightest, for encouraging her to trust and confide in him, knowing he would someday kill her.

Sensing the awkwardness derived from leaving her words hanging in the air, she inhaled a quick breath and composed herself. "As Merida said, they had plenty of chances to kill us, but chose not to. I think, as crazy as it sounds, the Ghosts are the most trustworthy people in the world because they aren't bothering to hide their dislike of us." She looked at Toothless, who regarded her suspiciously. "And we're in the safest place we could be."

"Oh, it's definitely the end times," Astrid quipped.

* * *

Jack looked up at the sky, growing impatient with waiting for Kozmotis to return. It was beautiful and cloudless, an ebony curtain drawn across the world with thousands of stars dotting the material, and the full moon shone brightly down upon the farmhouse, the barn, and the Ghosts. Such a sky was entrancing, what with the absence of artificial light to pollute it, and he was filled with the faint urge to fly up to the farmhouse roof and lose himself in the starlit night.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Hiccup commented, his eyes drinking in the glory of space. "It's like you can see every single star. Did you know that some of those stars might already be dead by the time their light reaches us?"

Jack's response was a thoughtful, "Yeah." It always struck him as incomprehensible that as the light could have left one star, life on Earth was just beginning, and by the time it arrived, Unity was in power. Millions of years of history in one journey

Footsteps approached from the farmhouse, and he shook the thought away. It was not the time to be lost in dreams - reality was calling, and its voice demanded he heeded it. He looked down from the sky at Anna and Kozmotis as they moved to stand near him, both watching him with expectant interest. He stood there for a few more moments, breathing in the cold night air, and looked down at the crunchy, frosted grass. Thinking. Weighing. Wondering why he may have felt her emotions on the _Star,_ yet not in the barn.

"Do you think they're telling the truth about Sleeping Beauty?" Anna asked.

Jack shrugged slowly. "No way of knowing until we pass through a settlement. We suddenly see an increased police or militia presence, then we'll know for sure."

Hiccup added, "If it _is_ true, then perhaps the Valkyries did us a solid."

Jack inhaled a deep breath through his nose, and then said, "Hiccup."

"Yeah?"

He looked at him. "Can we trust them?"

Even in the moonlit night, Hiccup's bemusement at being asked such a question was blindingly clear, rendering the slight recoil of his head to be unnecessary. "You're asking _me?"_

"Did I stutter?" Jack snapped. "I already know what Koz is gonna say-"

"Yep," Kozmotis agreed, nodding sagely.

Jack continued, unfettered. "Anna's judgement is compromised." He looked at her with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, but it's true."

Anna frowned and opened her mouth to protest, but closed it, grimaced, and tilted her head to concede the point.

Jack looked at Hiccup. "Which leaves me, and half of me still thinks it's all part of a big plan while the other half thinks there might be something to it. So you're the only person, with objectivity."

Hiccup exhaled loudly through his mouth and rested his hands on his hips while he stared off into the dark. It was a tall order for him and Jack knew it, as what Hiccup had to say would in part dictate what would happen to the four young women in the barn. Kozmotis huffed, tapped his foot and adjusted his position whilst Anna played a game of on-off with a tiny flame in her hand. Jack crossed his arms and watched his feet as he shuffled them to pass the time.

"I think," Hiccup began hesitantly, "I think they were telling the truth about being betrayed. I think what happened up there was exactly what it was."

"And Sleeping Beauty?" Jack asked.

Hiccup inclined his head toward him. "Like you said - we're not gonna know for sure unless we see more clones or militia dudes sauntering through the settlements."

Jack sighed, but it came out as more of a long exhalation of breath. His body ached from combat and having to carry Snow Queen's dead weight forty kilometres home, even _if_ the wind helped him. His heart, slow and steady in its pulse, beat with a heaviness that came with the knowledge the final decision was his. There was no safety net. If things went south on them, it was on him. He tried to weigh it up in his mind; assuming what the Valkyries said was true, then they were officially fugitives.

"If it's all on the level," Hiccup said, "it could mean we have allies."

Jack no-selled the idea with a wave of his hand. "Unity's got an enemy. That's _not_ the same thing." He then turned his head and shot him an _are-you-serious_ look, narrowed eyes and all. "Wait, now you trust them all of a sudden?"

Hiccup shook his head, half-smiling and chuckling. "I said I believed them. I never said I trusted them."

Jack's eyebrows bounced, and he cocked his head once as if to say ' _fair enough'._

"So what do we do?" Anna asked. "I mean, standing around here in the dark and cold is _fun_ and all, but…" she left the sentence hanging.

Casting a look at the barn, Jack's eyes lingered on its door as he nibbled the inside of his lip. Though Hiccup's opinion and honesty was helpful, there was still a strong voice in his mind that was convinced they were all liars. He needed a way to find out for sure, but first things first. "Koz, Hiccup, make preparations to leave. I wanna be on the road in thirty minutes."

Hiccup frowned, giving him an odd look. "We're leaving tonight?"

"This safehouse is now compromised; the further we are away from here, the better. Unity might think we're dead, but this guy Hans - he ain't stupid. Soon as he sees the wreckage of all those fighters we took down, he's gonna figure out that the Valkyries had help. I wanna be in the wind when he does." He hesitated, and then let loose a rather over-dramatic groan-sigh. "Goddammit - and I did such a good speech, too."

"What about me?" Anna asked.

His eyes came to rest upon her. With the moonlight dancing on her strawberry blonde hair and twinkling in her sapphire eyes, he watched for her reaction. Softly, he said, "You're with me. There might be a way we can find out whether they're full of shit. I wanna confront them with the reality of what they did."

"How're you gonna confron-" Hiccup began. As Jack looked at him, he saw how the rider's shoulders sagged, and how his head slightly flopped to the side when he caught onto Jack's meaning. "Oh. Dude, that's cold."

Jack bitterly scoffed. "What powers do I have, again?" Spreading his arms wide, he walked backwards to the barn, and said, "Winter isn't always fun and games, Fury."

He turned back to the barn, hearing Anna's footsteps behind him, and murmured to himself:

"And neither am I."

* * *

Astrid struggled against her bindings, loudly enough for Toothless to throw a few growls her way. Elsa cast her a few nervous glances, especially as her second-in-command wasn't subtle about it - what with the chair scraping on the floor, and the feminine grunts every time she tried to shift her limbs. "What are you doing?" Elsa hissed.

"Trying to get free," Astrid shout-whispered back. "If I can just get the rope in my hands, maybe I can vibrate 'em off me."

Elsa gave her a stony glare. "Don't."

Astrid looked back at her in disbelief, eyes half-wide with a frown for good measure. "Why not?"

"We need them to trust us - you trying to break free will not help."

Astrid stared blankly at her for a few moments, and just before the barn door was yanked open with enough force to give them all a start, she scowled and hissed a petulant, "Fine."

Elsa turned her head to the door, her eyes lingering on Astrid for a few seconds, and then watched as Frost emerged from the darkness with Anna right behind him. She sat stiffly; being forced to stay in one position was playing havoc on her muscles and joints, not to mention the physical exhaustion from the battle several hours beforehand, and she was internally crying out for the chance to simply _stretch._ She impassively watched him weave around Toothless whilst taking the time to scratch behind what she assumed to be his ears - his prior intimidation was undone by how his eyes rolled into the back of his head and goofy expression of pleasure he subsequently displayed - and then come to a stop directly in front of her with his arms crossed and his feet at shoulder-width apart.

"Okay," he announced abruptly. Elsa quickly drew her eyes away from his arms and eyed him patiently. "Here's what's going on. As far as what happened up there five hours ago, I believe you're telling the truth."

"About bloody time," Merida grumbled.

"As for Sleeping Beauty," he said, his eyes coming to rest on Elsa, "that I'm not so sure about, but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"It's the truth," Elsa said in a low, serious voice. "I would not lie about that."

"Maybe not." Frost bent down with his hands on his knees so he was eye-level with Elsa, and stared unblinkingly into her eyes. The same sensation of time slipping away came back. "But aside from earlier on, there is _nothing_ you've done that would make me take you at your word."

He abruptly straightened up and held his hand open to Anna. There was the scrape of metal on metal as she produced one of her silver knives from behind her back, and placed the handle on his palm. There was a quiet yet audible intake of breath from three of the Valkyries, but Elsa kept herself as composed as she could. Her eyes still flicked down to the blade, however, and she eyed it warily as Frost enclosed his hand around the handle.

Merida, being the first to speak, said in a breathy voice, "So, what, yer gonna kill us?"

Frost chuckled. "Nope. Worse. I'm cutting you loose."

Elsa failed to see how that was worse. "Where is the _Valhalla_?" she asked, as Frost circled round Astrid to kneel at her side whilst Anna did the same with Rapunzel. It was smart; his position meant she wouldn't be able to kick him in the face once he cut the ropes around her legs... not that she would do that. Maybe. "Where are our weapons?"

"Your ship? We blew it up," Frost said in a voice so matter-of-fact, it seemed like just another Monday to him as he slipped the knife between her leg and the rope and sliced into the bindings. "Your weapons were on it. Gotta say - _really_ satisfying." He looked up at Astrid and grimaced. "So, you know, sorry-not-sorry."

Elsa sucked in an incensed gasp, eyes wide. How dare he! How could he just destroy the _Valhalla, their_ ship? Frost continued on, moving to Astrid's left leg, whilst the three women clamoured over each other to voice their severe dislike of his actions. Merida's voice mixed in with Rapunzel's, and the both of them melded in with Astrid's curse-laden tirade to form one noisy mess unsafe for the ears of children. Frost carried on as though nothing was happening, but as soon as Astrid's hands were freed she jumped to her feet, threw her chair aside with such force it broke in two against the wall and wound her fist back whilst surging toward Frost like an enraged freight train.

"Astrid!" Elsa barked.

There was an almighty bang. It echoed throughout the room, loud enough to cause the three still-restrained women to jump out of their seats and for Astrid to freeze in her tracks. Her heart racing, thanks to being decidedly _freaked out,_ Elsa's head whipped from Frost, whose eyes were fixed on Astrid whilst his right hand hovered over his thigh holster, to the source of the thunderous boom - Anna.

Her right arm was straight and level, and in her right hand was held a similar weapon to Frost's. Her face was etched with protective fury, glaring daggers at Astrid. She never looked more serious in her life. "Take one more step," she snarled, "and I won't miss."

Elsa's head switched back to the near-scuffle, where Astrid's head turned from Anna to face the wall to her left - a nice, brand new hole had been made halfway between her and Frost, head-height. _So that's what those things do_ , Elsa thought. She just wished it didn't take Astrid nearly getting herself killed to find out. "You should listen to her, Viking," Frost said. "She's one hell of a shot."

Anna's hand went up to her left ear, yet her eyes still inexorably rested on Astrid. "No, we're okay down here, Pitch. Five by five."

"Astrid," Elsa said forcefully. "Stand down."

The darker blonde's eyes flicked between Frost, Elsa and Anna, her face an unhealthy pale colour. Her expression was void of its prior indignant fury, having been replaced by nervous eyes and furtive glances. Slowly, she lowered her fist, and took a few steps back. Frost's eyes went in Anna's direction, and he gave her a single nod. Following his look, Elsa twisted round to see what Anna was doing - and gave a quiet sigh of relief when she saw the weapon being slipped back into its holster.

Frost let out a long whistle as he too relaxed. He straightened up, and his right hand moved away from his pistol. "Whew! That was tense. That was really tense." He looked over at Rapunzel. "Are you tense? I'm tense."

Stiffening in response to him moving near her, Elsa watched warily as he knelt down by her right leg and set to work on her bindings. "Why did you destroy our ship?" she asked quietly.

"To fake your deaths," Frost said, halfway through the thickly coiled rope. "Unity thinks you're dead, they're not gonna be scouring every settlement from here to the south of Chile to find you. Of course, we all know _Einherjars_ don't just fall from the sky - so Hans won't be fooled. Either way, it buys you a few days."

"To do what?" Rapunzel asked as she rose from her chair and massaged her wrists.

"Whatever you want," he said, moving onto Elsa's left leg. She didn't know whether it was his presence or the knife in such proximity to her leg, but something was tightening her chest. "But I would probably say if you're planning to use us to buy your way back into Unity's good graces - don't bother. We'd be in the wind before you even got to a settlement."

The rope around her left leg twanged free and flopped to the floor. Frost immediately moved behind her, and she could feel her wrists being jiggled of their own accord thanks to the blade eating into the restraints. "We'd never do that," Elsa said with as much sincerity as she could muster.

"Like I said. Nothing you've done makes me want to take you at your word."

The rope snapped free, and Elsa felt the kiss of air on her wrists once again. She rose to her feet, wincing as she massaged the life back into them, but thankful she was no longer bound to the chair. Being freed was a major step toward trust in her mind, a currency the Valkyries had a severe lack of. She turned to face Frost, and said, "Thank you."

Rising to his feet, he lifted his head as though debating something in his mind, and then offered a single nod as an acknowledgement. There was a clearing of a throat just as Merida joined the ranks of the newly released, hissing curses to herself as she too rubbed life into the areas the rope bit into. Elsa looked at the source of the sound, Rapunzel, just as Frost did the same. "Something you wanna say?" Frost asked, before Elsa could open her mouth and ask the same - in _far_ more tactful a manner.

"I have…" she began hesitantly. Her hands went up to rub circles around her knuckles. "I have a request."

"You do, huh?" Frost said, as he passed the blade back to Anna, who accepted it by the handle. There was the sound of the two blades being slid back into their sheaths as she moved to stand near him - and the tugging sensation in Elsa's heart returned as she threw them a quick glance.

Rapunzel's upper lip slid between her teeth, and she nodded. "Can I see Eugene?" she asked, staring at him with hopeful eyes.

Frost's reaction was surprising to Elsa, and at the same time, not. He turned his head the smallest inch as he crossed his arms and regarded her suspiciously through the corners of his narrowed eyes. "How do you know his name?"

Rapunzel's voice was soft and cracked a little under the weight of her emotion. She smiled shyly. "He... he told me. In the _Star's_ briefing room. Where we kissed."

Elsa quickly looked at Frost, awaiting his response. Surely, with Rapunzel being pathologically unable to lie, he would grant her request. It wasn't like he would lose anything by doing so, and reuniting two lovers would go a long way to fostering better relations between the two teams… between two sisters. When she saw how he cast a glance at Anna, though, with a split-second flash of regret in their eyes, her stomach churned with uncertainty.

"Sure," he said - but the lack of a smile and bleakness to his voice was telling.

To everyone, that was, bar Rapunzel. She grinned happily and bounced a little on the heels of her boots. She always saw the light in everything - sometimes, so much so it blinded her. "You know what?" Frost said abruptly, returning to his prior attempt at casual indifference, "Let's all go. I've got something to show you."

Uncrossing his arms, he walked past Elsa to the door - shooting both her and Astrid a side-eyed glance on the way. Rapunzel scurried to move right behind him, a tangible aura of excitement around her. Astrid skulked behind her, throwing a quick look at Anna, while Merida fell in behind. Which left Elsa and her sister. She looked over at her strawberry-blonde sibling, waiting for her to speak. Hoping she would. Even if it was a simple " _get moving",_ that would be all Elsa needed for that moment. Anna looked back at her with an impassive expression, shades of impatience showing themselves when she gestured with her right hand for her to go first. Elsa's heart twinged - even two words would have been enough. She looked down and nodded with glum acknowledgement. Interaction would have to wait, it seemed.

She briskly walked to catch up with the group just as Merida went through the door, but slowed her steps, allowing the main group to pull ahead a few feet - enough to hear Frost talk, but not enough for him to hear a quiet conversation with Anna, who was merely two feet behind her. Classic prisoner-slash-hostage transport formation. She twisted round and asked of her sister, "May I walk beside you?"

Anna shrugged. "Free country," she said tonelessly. "Or, I suppose, _not."_

Elsa, trying to ignore the lack of enthusiasm, hung back and matched Anna's speed. She cast more than a few glances, hoping to be the one who didn't have to start the conversation, hoping for Anna to at least _look_ at her. It seemed, however, that Anna was perfectly content to walk in silence, her eyes on the backs of the three Valkyries ahead. "How...h-how are you?" she asked and immediately administered a mental self-slap. _How are you? How trite. Stupid!_

Anna's voice was as noncommittal as it had been so far, barely audible over the crunch of frosted grass under their feet. "Surviving."

Elsa threw a few more hesitant glances her way. She _was_ bolstered by how Anna was listening to and answering her, but the clipped manner in which she talked and the refusal to apply any more emotion to her voice than a basic Uni-Com kept Elsa on edge. Her heart simultaneously spread its hands to Anna, but guarded itself at the same time. "I... I missed you," she said hopefully. "When my tour of duty ended, I was going to resign and look for you."

"Yuh-huh."

"It's true." Elsa tried to suppress the sensation of her heart cracking. "I wanted us to-"

Anna stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face her. Sternness was etched in her moonlit features, but her eyes... Elsa couldn't tell whether they were full of rage or pain. She lifted one flat hand up, and gestured as she spoke, "Friendly piece of advice. Stop talking."

Elsa flinched; she had never seen Anna like that before. Sure, she had her tantrums when they were younger, mostly because she was too stubborn and headstrong to admit she was wrong, and because she tended to go into situations half-cocked. She preferred _that_ Anna, who would shout at the top of her voice, to the one standing in front of her - whose facade of impassiveness briefly broke to reveal deep frustration when she hissed, "We had _just_ started to move forward, and then _you_ had to drop in on us. Literally."

Her eyes blinking far more than they usually should, Elsa found it hard to look at her sister. Swallowing down an ache that had crept up into her throat, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Anna muttered. She turned away, but just before jogging to catch up with the group, she said, "So am I."

Elsa exhaled a ragged breath and winced with heartache. It could have been worse, but a small part of her was hoping it could have been _better,_ too. She didn't expect Anna to be forgiving, genial or even _neutral,_ but the way she was acting felt like venom - or sharp pain derived from something. What that something was, she didn't know - and wasn't sure she _wanted to._ She took a strengthening breath through her nose; the road ahead would be hard, and she wasn't naïve enough to believe otherwise. To lose her nerve now would be catastrophic. Forcing herself on, she briskly walked, and then jogged to catch up with the rest of the group, just as they approached the corner of a farmhouse. The windows were dimly lit, and the all-exposing moonlight illuminated the cracks in the old wood, and where the white paint peeled off in a hundred places.

"Where are we going?" Astrid asked, two feet behind Frost's right shoulder.

"The Ghosts are moving out - but you? I'm taking you to get some enlightenment," Frost said, albeit vaguely. What _wasn't_ vague were the words that followed. "You Valkyries apologise and act all regretful about what happened like you read it in a book, when you got to go back to your nice cushy homes and loving families while _our_ home was wiped off the earth, and we had to _bury_ ours." As they reached the corner of the house, he stopped in his tracks and turned so abruptly Rapunzel nearly bumped into him - and being a foot taller, he _towered_ over her as he glared cold anger. "You wanna know where Eugene is?"

His right arm, straight and level, went up to point at something.

"He's right there."

Every single head followed his finger, but Rapunzel was the first to react - and it broke Elsa's heart. The young brunette covered her mouth with her hands, and shook her head like it was one big joke Frost was playing on her, but all it took was for her to look once, just once, at his expression. Elsa wanted to surge forward and wrap her arms around her as she began to cry with the fury of a heartbroken storm. Choked sobs and wails filled the night like the air was made of grief, mixed in with her one-word notes of denial. "Eugene... no…" she whimpered, a second before the sounds of weeping began anew and with greater force.

Helpless, Elsa watched in heartbroken sorrow as Rapunzel slowly made her way to where Frost pointed, and though she didn't recognise the signs, she knew _exactly_ what they symbolised. Four crosses embedded in the ground, illuminated by the ghostly moonglow so bright it cast four warped shadows toward them. Rapunzel fell to her knees by the furthest one, on which a frying pan was hanging, and cried her grief.

"You son of a bitch," Astrid hissed. "That was fucking out of line."

Elsa, summoning every bit of strength she could to compose herself, glared angrily at Frost and hissed, "You didn't need to do that to her. That wasn't fair."

The word ' _fair'_ seemed to be a trigger, for as soon as the word left her mouth, all prior control Frost displayed vanished. He turned his rage on her, and had his powers been over fire, his eyes would have been aflame. "You don't get to say that!" he snarled. "You don't get to say what's fair! Not when one of those belongs to our leader, our _friend-"_

He stood aside, and pointed to the third cross from the left, upon which what looked like a mask hung.

"-and _your_ brother-in-law."

For the first second or two, those words didn't process themselves in her head. "Brother-in…" she repeated in a whisper, but as the realisation of his meaning came crashing down on her like a tidal wave, her eyes bulged as she felt her heart and stomach sink to the floor through weakening legs, and gasped, "Oh, God…"

She whirled around and looked imploringly at Anna, who stared right back at her with anguished eyes and a deeply furrowed brow. "Anna, please, I didn't know! You have to believe me-please believe me, I didn't know! I'm so sorry, please-" she reached out for her, "I never meant to-"

Anna recoiled, batting her hand away, her eyes exuding fear and fury. "Don't touch me!" she snapped. "My husband is dead! My unborn child will grow up without a father because of _you!_ Because of the people _you_ worked for!"

Her words cut Elsa to pieces, mercilessly shredding her heart. A child. Her sister was going to be a mother.. "You're…" Anna turned on her heel and marched into the farmhouse. "Anna…" she weakly called after her, as tears welled and slid down her cheeks, unfettered in their guilt.

"Pregnant?" Frost said. "Yeah. You're gonna be an aunt. Congratulations."

Elsa felt someone's hand on her shoulder, and the faint trembles were a dead giveaway - Astrid. She felt like she was there just to watch her sister slam the door behind her hard enough to rattle the frame. She covered her mouth with a loose fist, desperate to hold back the suffocating lump in her throat.

She vaguely heard Merida speak. "Why'd ye do that? There wasnae need."

Elsa wrenched her eyes away from the door, and of the hope that Anna would come back out. She _had_ to know she was sorry. She _had_ to understand that she never meant for the Purge to happen. Slowly, she moved her eyes to rest upon the face of Frost - and puzzlement found its way among the anguish at his expression of what _looked_ like weary, mild regret.

"Yeah, there was." He turned away from them to look at the graves, where Rapunzel still sobbed her grief away. "One of those belongs to my surrogate mom."

"So, ye wanted us ta feel shit?" Merida snapped. "Newsflash, arsehole, we already did!"

"No, you didn't. Not really," he said in a low, hollow voice. Though she would hate to admit it, Elsa had a feeling he was right - Anna's husband and the father of her child, _and_ Frost's parent. In her fury to avenge _her_ parents, she claimed _his._ She had never felt so small. "You needed to see the reality of what you did when you all went on a roaring rampage of revenge - you needed to see what you left behind."

He turned back and looked at Elsa. Leader to leader. His gaze bore down into her, and as the seconds passed, she found it harder and harder to hold his gaze. Nonetheless, she tried.

" _This_ is your legacy."

* * *

Sat on the grass with her legs forming an 'A', Elsa leaned against the veranda's fence while she stared up at the moon. Trying to lose herself in its otherworldly white splendour, rather than face her here-and-now. Such a starlit night was beautiful, a far cry from the unidium-constructed towers of New Burgess' Upper City where the overhead canvas of nature was punctured by metal. It was like she could see the universe from a small farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Her breaths were automatic, slow and steady, and her mind ticked over and over.

So much had happened in that day. She had granted someone the dignity of death; confessed her abnormality to her team - and in turn was granted the respect of them by _their_ confessions; chased down and accidentally destroyed a ship carrying two of the most powerful people in Unity second only to the Unifier himself; become an enemy of the regime; captured and then freed by the Ghosts... and come face-to-figurative-face with the aftermath of her crusade. Half of that would qualify as tiring to anyone, but she was mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually exhausted. Numb emptiness ruled her emotional state, for which she was thankful - she wasn't sure how much she could take. _The Ghosts want nothing to do with us,_ she thought. _Anna must hate me. What's the point? Where is the hope?_

It was a question even Rapunzel must be asking herself, she pondered. The bright, effervescent, happy-go-lucky woman was reduced to a crumbling, sobbing, grieving mess in the space of ten minutes, having found out about her Eugene's death. She must have been feeling the same as Elsa - that it was all her fault. She had been nestled in Astrid's comforting embrace, both sat on the grass directly opposite Elsa. The last thing she had said before staring vacantly at the floor were four words: " _he was my dream"._

He was my dream.

Anna was hers.

"So, what's tha plan?" Merida asked - even _her_ voice sounded like she was void of all energy.

Elsa looked down from the sky through her lower eyelids at her. "Plan?"

"Aye. How do we move forward from here?"

She didn't have an answer for that - she had no idea how. She looked back up at the sky; maybe the moon would give her an answer.

"Elsa?"

Astrid spoke that time. A raggedy breath escaped Elsa's lips; she didn't want all the questions. She didn't want to be the one who had to give the answers, the directions, the orders. After all, her leadership had gotten them to where they were at that moment - the darkest point in their lives.

Yet, Astrid persisted... and drove the needle deeper into her heart. "Why didn't you tell them we are abnormals?"

Elsa closed her eyes and exhaled loudly through her nose. "I would have done - but you saw how Frost reacted to Aurora. Unity using an abnormal to oppress abnormals. We were doing the same thing - the only difference is we did it with our eyes wide open."

It was an indirect reminder - she was late for her next dose. She fished the pill case from her utility belt, opened it and popped two pills into her mouth.

"But we never m-meant to do it," Rapunzel stammered hoarsely. "We were p-played, made to do the things we d-did. We n-never thought anyone would d-die…"

"Does it matter?" Elsa said abruptly, her voice slightly broken from the swallowing. "We did it. Innocent people died. I was walking around with a sword made of pure unidium. It doesn't exactly scream ' _non-lethal'."_

Merida scoffed. "So, what, that's it? Yer givin' up?"

Elsa rolled her eyes, then cast her a side-eyed look. "Red-"

"No - I was raised ta never give up." She pointed at the farmhouse, resolve carved on her round face. "In there are four Ghosts who think we're tha enemy, that we're what's wrong with tha world. Maybe they're right, but I dinnae think so. The thing is, I just found out I'm probably never gonna see ma family again. Ma brothers are gonna grow up without their big sister ta keep 'em in line, 'cause if I try ta see them, I'm gonna put ma entire family in danger."

The Scot was full of passion, and though the depressed numbness hated it, that passion worked its way into Elsa's soul - reigniting it. "I do _not_ accept that. I will _not._ That is _not_ my fate, 'cause I'm gonna change it. I'm certain tha only way I'm gonna see my brothers again is if I change the minds of those four Ghosts in there - and I ain't gonna do it sittin' on ma arse like some wet weekend hiding in a palace, pretending it'll all go away. You think yer fate is ta be alone, Elsa?" When she nodded, Merida emphatically shook her head. "Then change it."

Fire flooded her being, a fire that caught in her soul and spread to claim all it could reach. Maybe that was what being in a team was all about - four very different personalities, attitudes, goals that melded together to enrich each member. Without Merida's verbal boot, Elsa knew she would have sunken into the same depression that claimed her for three years.

_Anna always looked at you like you were her hero,_ a voice in her head reminded her. _This is your chance to earn that look once again._

Once chance. The Ghosts were about to disappear, and unless she did something, she would never have the chance again. She nodded to herself, resolute. Rising to her feet, she dusted off her arms and legs, and said, "I have an idea."

* * *

Jack's younger self would have scoffed at the concept of neatness, but having one's ass busted several times by Kristoff engendered a certain adherence to protocol, plus he hadn't used the bed since he arrived what with the floor being more comfortable. His bag sat on the edge nearest the window, half-full of well-folded civilian clothes and his iPod and speakers while he flitted about his dimly lit room. He and his team were moving out in five minutes, so packing was the order of the day. Anna and Kozmotis were already done, and Hiccup was retrieving the mementoes from the crosses before he started on the house's power cell, which left Jack to tend to his own belongings while lost in thought.

He pulled open the drawer to his nightstand and pulled out a paper map and his stun pistol. He pressed the cell-release button to check its power level - two-thirds juice left. Maybe he had been too hard on the Valkyries. If what Elsa said was true, it meant they were played like marionettes by an ambitious sociopath, wound up and sent on a path of destruction. It meant they were as much victims of Unity's hate and oppression as the Ghosts were, albeit in a far different manner. The spearhead of the crusade, the face of the military. Scapegoats. Easy targets. If something went south, they'd take the heat. If it went right, as the Purge proved it _did,_ they would be the targets of hate and vengeance. Maybe they never wanted the Purge to happen, and they were just as horrified by the _Star's_ destruction as the Ghosts were. It was half of the reason he showed them the gravestones; their reactions were genuine. No-one could fake that kind of horror. Rapunzel couldn't have faked being so broken.

Sliding the pistol into his left thigh holster, he dropped to his knees and produced Pippa from the shadows under the bed, trying to push the thought away. So what if they were manipulated and played? They still did it. Elsa still sliced into his flesh. Astrid still tried to kill Kozmotis in front of Hiro. It didn't matter if they were tricked into taking down team after team, thought those they captured were merely imprisoned, or led to believe the Purge would be non-lethal only. They were still responsible for many other acts and words, some of which Jack wasn't sure he could forgive.

Frowning, he carefully placed Pippa over his clothes and zipped up the bag while his mind went to Anna. There was the most peculiar thing; Anna had every right to react the way she did, and Jack completely understood how she was feeling. To her, the person she looked up to for years took out her husband, even indirectly, and to say she was an emotional mess of rage and grief was an understatement. Strangely, though, he found himself pitying and hurting for Elsa, of all people. Two sisters, divided by war and prejudice, once on opposing sides of the battle lines and _now_ on the same side. Yet the division was still there, like it had never left. Maybe there was too much water under the bridge, but Jack could see how the two of them were crying out for each other. It was clear in their eyes, and in their passion; one was held back by pride and pain, the other by fear. Neither Hiccup nor Kozmotis had siblings, and whether the other three Valkyries had any was unclear, but Jack understood what it was like to have a sister.

The lights suddenly went out, bathing the room in darkness broken only by the moonlight through the window. Jack looked up, tracing his eyes over the ceiling for a few moments while his eyes accustomed themselves to the change - Hiccup must have successfully disconnected the spare power cell.

And unlike Anna, Jack would never have the chance to reunite with his sister ever again. Guilt flooded his heart, sharing pride of place with an ache. His petulant frustration, childish tantrum and a surprise Reaper attack saw to that. Anna had a chance - but it was anyone's guess whether she could work through her pain and take it.

There was a brisk set of knocks at the door. "Enter," Jack sighed.

The door opened, and had it not been for the moonlight, Jack wouldn't have been able to pick out Kozmotis' head from the shroud of darkness as he poked it through. "There's something you should see," he said, with a strange frown of puzzlement on his angular face. Jack still couldn't get used to that small beard.

"What is it?"

"The Valkyries." Kozmotis opened the door wider and stepped back into the hall. "They're acting... strangely."

Jack frowned in bemusement. "Define ' _strangely'._ "

"I think you need to see."

Jack studied him impatiently for a few more seconds before huffing and slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Fine." With Kozmotis in tow, he made his way out of the bedroom, through the hall and left the house.

Which was where he froze in bewilderment - ' _strange'_ was right. The four Valkyries were stood between the house and the jeep, in the standard _at-ease_ position with their feet at shoulder-width and their hands behind their backs. As soon as Jack stepped through the door, they instantly bolted to attention at a single shouted command from Elsa. They stood, proud and erect, and stared straight ahead.

Then, even more perplexingly, she yelled " _Present arms!"_ and all four saluted him.

"What's going on?" he asked, dropping the bag at his feet.

"Apparently," Kozmotis drawled, moving to stand next to him, "they are saluting you."

Jack's eyes rolled into his skull in groaning exasperation, and he shot a withering look. "Gee, thank you. Any more _fascinating_ observations you'd like to share?"

"Your sarcasm is blunt and vulgar." Kozmotis took two steps back and regarded him with a wry smirk. "And it seems they're waiting for your orders. _Sir_."

Jack narrowed his gaze and pulled a mocking face at him. "Smartass." Shaking his head in more than a little weariness - he hadn't the patience for Kozmotis' usual dickery - he turned to face the Valkyries, who were still stood at attention and saluting him. He took a breath through his nose and prepared himself; as if the night wasn't crazy enough, it would probably get crazier. He returned the salute, and said, "At ease," as he descended the veranda steps and stood in front of Elsa.

Who, followed by the Valkyries, returned to her previous stance. "I'm gonna ask again - what's all this?" he pressed.

"Permission to speak freely, sir," she requested.

Jack's head recoiled a little, and he frowned. "... you don't need my permission to speak," he said, and then winced as he vigorously shook his head. "And don't call me ' _sir',_ alright? It makes me feel old. Stand easy, before you break something."

There was the lightest twitch at the corners of Elsa's lips, though she still stared straight ahead even while relaxing her stance. "Sir; we, the Valkyries, wish to formally and unreservedly apologise for our actions over the past three years. Through our actions, innocent people have died, and though we never meant to take life, we regret and take responsibility for our role in the conflict."

Jack was dumbfounded. He never expected those words to come out of her mouth; sure, they _looked_ regretful of what had happened, but it was quite another thing for them to come out and _say_ it. The way they stood in front of the jeep, minutes before the Ghosts were due to leave, in full military drill formation screamed that they were taking it beyond seriously.

Not to mention the salute. A sign of respect? From _them?_

Forcing composure, he frowned warily. "Apology… _acknowledged_ ," he said, emphasising the last word.

"To that end," she continued, "as the leader of the Valkyries, I am officially disbanding the team. As of now, the Valkyries no longer exist."

"You think getting rid of a name wipes away your crimes?" Kozmotis growled from the veranda. "Do you think we're that-"

"That's enough, Pitch!" Jack barked over his shoulder. Odd how Elsa's wince of pain garnered such a defensive reaction. Kozmotis closed his mouth and shot him a deadly glare. Turning back to Elsa, Jack regarded her with a curious eye. "Okay. Anything else?"

Elsa nodded. "We seek to redeem ourselves and hopefully earn forgiveness for our actions. For that purpose, and for the survival of my friends-" She took a breath, one that gave an obvious vibe that she was preparing for something. Maybe a refusal to a question she hadn't asked yet. "-we respectfully request asylum."

Jack blinked, his face rendered blank. Asylum. The Valkyries - though Elsa had stated their disbanding, they were still the same team to him - were asking to come with the Ghosts. To be protected by them. Instead of three, he would lead _seven -_ including the same people who tried to kill them once upon a time. His feeling that the night would get crazier was right on the money.

He turned to look at his team and silently gauge their reactions. Hiccup, stood around the corner and partially leaning on Toothless, wore a face of _might-as-well,_ though judging by the narrowed eye slits and grumpy expression, Toothless wasn't sold on the idea. His eyes traced over to Anna who leaned with her hands on the veranda fence, and as soon as their gazes locked, she looked away. She wasn't saying yes - but the telling part was that she wasn't saying _no._

But when his eyes fell on Kozmotis who was scowling like there was no tomorrow, not even bothering to hide the shaking of his head, he made a surprisingly easy decision. Maybe it was something to do with pissing Kozmotis off.

"Night Fury," he called.

"Yeah, chief?"

"You're my wing-man. Make room on your saddle. Astrid's hitching a ride with you."

"Toothless isn't gonna like that," Hiccup pointed out, but there was an amused, almost upbeat quality to his sing-song voice that made Jack's reprimand a little less... reprimanding.

"Toothless can fucking deal with it," he snapped. "Pitch, you're driving the jeep. Anna, you're riding shotgun. Snow Queen, Merida and Rapunzel are with you."

Kozmotis predictably took umbrage. "Are you out of your mind, Frost?" he loudly and angrily protested, adding, "Why do I have to drive?"

Jack rolled his eyes and gave him a withering look over his shoulder. "You're driving 'cause Anna's less likely to turn around and shoot them in the face just for the hell of it." He turned and gave each member of the extended group a look. "Any more stupid questions, or can we make a move?"

The consensus was a negative, ranging from Hiccup's cheerful " _nope",_ the collective " _no, sir"_ from the four Valkyries, and Kozmotis' furious growl. Satisfied, Jack turned his gaze back to Elsa, who wore a smile she was trying - and failing - to suppress.

"Looks like you're coming with us," he said.


	40. Take Me to Church

 

" **Take Me to Church"**

 

_Location: Zone Ten (Iowa)_

_Date: December 7th_

_Time: 16:00 (Nightfall in 30 minutes)_

 

Des Moines was, for lack of a better term, desolate.

Under a darkening navy-blue sky, burnt out pre-Unity cars lined the streets in positions varying between on their sides, wheels or on their roofs, and those that weren't ravaged by fire were rusted to the point of unusable. Debris and dust covered the asphalt under Jack's feet as he walked beside the slowly moving hover jeep, rifle in hand, every step yielding a quiet crunch. Poles stuck out at odd angles, the once attached road signs no longer there or dangling helplessly by a single bolt. Bones belonging to human and animal alike were scattered across the ground, some still attached to the rest of the skeleton, others broken and gnawed by opportunistic wild animals. Some were decades old and sporting an ugly ochre shade - others more recent, with claw and bite marks notched into the bone. Jack tried not to think about which ones belonged to those who died in the war, and which ones were lone travellers killed by Reapers. The unsettled feeling gnawing at his bones was distracting enough.

Hiccup soared overhead with Astrid holding onto him - the last time they landed for a break, the brunette rider wore a marvellous shade of red on his cheeks. Apparently Astrid ' _accidentally'_ brushed up against something. Elsa, Merida and Rapunzel sat in the back seat of the jeep, their eyes scanning the empty streets with as much vigilance as Jack's. The only difference was that Anna was the one driving, her left hand on the wheel while the right gripped her MP5, and Kozmotis was twenty yards ahead as the group's point man.

With Hiccup providing a bird's-eye view of the ruined city of shattered towers and torn buildings, and Kozmotis being the first to see any hostile activity and thus able to alert the group, Jack was confident in the safety of those under his charge… but it didn't stop him pointing Pippa at every alleyway, street corner, broken window and wild animal that crossed their path. As the entire group was silent for one reason or another, all he could hear was his heart beating a tense rhythm. Ruined cities were excellent ambush environments. He traced the M4-A1's sight over the grey concrete shell of an office building, scanning each broken window for the slightest sign - his breath caught when he thought he saw a face, but a single blink and it was gone.

He cast a quick glance at Kozmotis' distant body, just as the latter's right hand went up into the air and clenched into a fist. Jack immediately halted as did the low humming of the hover jeep as Anna hit the brakes. He had seen something. Watching the fist carefully, Jack waited for the signals - extended fingers for number of hostiles, for example. Circle over the eye for snipers, or the thumb and forefinger stuck out for anyone with a stun pistol. None came.

He raised two fingers to his right ear. "What do you see, Pitch?"

The reply immediately came back in a whisper. " _A body. Fresh. Can't be more than a few hours old."_

Jack cast a nervous look at Anna, who returned it with an identical gaze. His grip tightened around the rifle. "Reapers?"

" _Negative,"_ was the answer. There was a sigh of relief from the jeep. Exhaling a quiet breath through pursed lips, Jack murmured, "On my way," and set off to catch him up. Behind him, the jeep hummed into life once more.

Jack pulled up at Kozmotis' side and gazed over the body, feeling a subsequent nausea churn his stomach. Their head was a pulpy mess, red with blood that caked their skin and drenched their short black hair. Eyes swollen shut, ballooned lips split. Vicious purple bruises adorned their arms and legs which looked like they had been broken in several places, their once blue shirt and brown shorts damp with glistening crimson. Jack could tell the body was of a boy of perhaps sixteen to seventeen years old, but that was about _all_ he could tell - aside from how he was carelessly left crumpled against scattered rocks.

Some of which still had sprays of blood on them.

"Reapers would have picked this kid clean," he said.

"Precisely," Kozmotis said. "This young man was beaten so hard his bones were broken, and his skull was caved in. Probably by that," he gestured at an irregularly shaped piece of metal rebar. "There was no mercy in this murder. This wasn't instinct, or the need to feed. This was fear. Normals did this. They ran him down and beat him until there was nothing left."

Jack looked up at the street ahead. "Well, we're not far from Perdition. Could it be vigilantes taking the law into their own hands?"

Kozmotis shook his head. "No. This boy was killed for another reason. Look."

Jack's eyes went back down to the body. With a gentle hand, Kozmotis moved the boy's arm and lifted it so Jack could see what he was supposed to notice - and his heart twinged in pain. The webbing of skin usually found between the base of each finger had grown almost to the nail. When Kozmotis carefully moved what was left of the boy's head to expose the neck, five parallel lines were easily visible even under the layer of blood. Gills. "He was an abnormal," Jack sighed.

"A water breather." Kozmotis gently laid the boy's arm down upon his chest. "He was killed for it."

_Hell of a way to die,_ Jack thought. Sixteen years on the earth, and his life was snuffed out at the hands of people who feared what they didn't understand. Giving him a concerned look, he could easily see the dark thoughts processing themselves in Kozmotis' head by the somber furrowing of his brow, and sense the rage inside by how quiet the taller man was. When he stood, he unfurled himself like a rising cobra ready to lash out, forcing Jack to dart to his feet just in case. He picked out every inch of his teammate's grey face for the slightest hint of what he was going to do, and when golden eyes moved down to stare at something on his hand, Jack's gaze followed.

And that was when he saw it - the teen's blood all over Kozmotis' palm and fingers. "Pitch," he addressed him. There was no reply, just silence broken by the sound of one of the jeep's doors opening and closing.

"Is something wrong?"

Elsa's question was perfectly innocuous, but was the one thing that caused a reaction. Casting her a quick glance and determining she was the one who exited the jeep, Jack found it curious that _she_ was curious, what with the concerned gaze she was giving him, her blue eyes searching for answers between them. Her words had the unforeseen effect of stirring Kozmotis from his introspective trance, however.

"Yes," Kozmotis said in a low, dangerous tone, which should have been a neon sign to Jack. "Your hands are missing something."

Jack was too slow to stop him. Before his eyes, Kozmotis quickly whirled around and grabbed the surprised Elsa's hands, held her wrists together and wiped the teen's blood onto her palms in a single rough stroke. Too horrified to respond, Elsa stared at her palms while Kozmotis audibly whispered, "There. Right where it belongs," and stalked off.

It took a few seconds for Jack to shake off the stunned shock. "Hey!" he angrily called after Kozmotis, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He was given nothing in return but a middle finger over the shoulder whilst the tall Ghost walked up the wide street away from them. Growling in frustration, Jack turned his litany of verbal abuse into a dismissive wave and promptly turned his attention to Elsa - which was when his heart twinged once again. With a face as pale as his hair, she stared in numb vacancy at the mess of crimson on her trembling hands, left in the same position Kozmotis held them in. Sighing, he slung his rifle over his shoulder - Kozmotis was far out of line.

"C'mere," he murmured, gently taking her hands in his, while his right went around to the canteen sat in the belt on his back, unscrewed it and brought it to her hands. Clean water poured from its mouth while his fingers nimbly worked to wash the blood away, the water trickling down and splashing against the floor like a miniature waterfall. Still, her face was slack with horror, still her hands trembled. He cast a quick glance at Anna, who watched her sister's hands with a thoughtful look.

The last of the blood fell from her hands in the waterfall, leaving her skin its previous fair colour.

"There," he said. "All clean."

He slowly looked up from her hands into her eyes, and though the vacant stare still held sway, she was no longer looking at her hands but at the broken teenager behind him. For a few moments her reaction puzzled him, being that she was used to combat and the fury of battle, and the injuries sustained therein… yet she was in total shock. Then he remembered she was _not_ in battle, she wasn't a soldier anymore. They were not under the haze of adrenaline, but in a silent and dead city where millions of people used to live. She had just come face-to-face with _precisely_ what happened to people like him. Brutality.

Hiccup's voice came in over the radio, stirring him from his thoughts. " _Hate to break up the tender moment, but it will be dark in about fifteen minutes."_

Jack let go of her hands and shoved the canteen back into his belt. "Copy. We'll find shelter and hunker down for the night. See anywhere we can hole up?"

" _Most of the buildings near you are pretty much ruined, but if you take a right at the next junction, there's a structure with those crucifix thingies on it. Looks intact."_

" _That would be called a church,"_ Kozmotis interjected.

" _Well, thank you Mr. Grumpypants."_

"Cut the chatter," Jack snapped. "Pitch, 'cause you were such an ass you get to go scout out the church. If it's safe, we'll hide there."

Kozmotis muttered something unsafe for the ears of children and ended with a cantankerous acknowledgement. "Rapunzel," Jack addressed her.

She looked up at him. Though the initial shock and grief of losing Eugene had been softened by two days on the road, she still looked defeated. "Yeah?"

"Help Snow Queen back into the jeep."

Rapunzel nodded softly and guided the numb woman back into the jeep's backseat whilst Jack told Anna to slowly follow Kozmotis as soon as Elsa was safely sat.

"What about you?" she asked out of concern.

Jack turned back to the body and cast a solemn gaze. "This kid deserves more respect than being left here like a Reaper snack. I'm gonna find something to cover him with."

Had he not had his back to her, he would have noticed Elsa's eyes lingering on him.

* * *

 

_Time 20:45_

 

The church, as Pitch Black described it, was an odd building. Structurally and aesthetically far removed from anything in Upper City, or even the Lower City, it gave Elsa the strange sensation of stepping a few decades into the past. Pillars lined the huge room, once a yellow colour rendered an ugly brown by the ravages of time. The hard stone floor was covered in a thick layer of dust, as were the long wooden benches she learned were called pews. A chill gently blew throughout the church, courtesy of the ' _stained-glass windows'_ between the pillars and the semi-circular ceiling that had been shattered. The ones lucky to be intact were full of colour, displaying somewhat abstract images of people, and hands held together.

The most peculiar thing was the symbol at the end of the church opposite to the main door, of a man clad only in a cloth, impaled by his hands and feet to a cross, and a crown of something spiky entwined around his head. In the four hours Elsa so far spent in the 'church', the man on the cross was by far the most unsettling aspect of the building.

Sat in the corner of one of the still-upright pews situated halfway between the front door and the cross, huddled under one of the blankets the Ghosts had retrieved from the hover jeep hidden a block away - the cold never bothered her, so it was more for comfort than anything - she traced her eyes over the occupants in the room. Night Fury dozed against Toothless' body, the latter curling his wing over him as a pseudo-blanket. Rapunzel and Astrid slept near her, the former laid on a pew while the other sprawled herself out on the floor. Anna sat on the steps near the 'altar', her eyes fixed on the front door while the candles she ignited with her powers bathed the huge room in a pleasant amber glow. Pitch Black had taken himself out of the light, choosing to reside in one of the small booths he referred to as _confessionals._

Which left Merida lamenting the lack of running water. "I seriously need a shower," she said, sat a few feet away. She committed an act of suicidal stupidity and sniffed at her armpit, promptly pulling a face. "Yeesh. I stink."

"You are a little ripe," Elsa murmured.

Merida gave her a sour look. "Ey, you're no bed of roses yerself, lass. Ain't no peppermint scent wafting from ye."

"What are you talking about?" Elsa smirked. "I always smell nice."

"Aye," Merida scoffed. "And I'm mild-mannered."

Elsa dipped her head and chuckled to herself, clutching the coarse blanket tighter around her. "I think we all could use a hot shower and a square meal. I must confess - I am missing my daily routine."

Merida gave her a funny look. "Ye had a routine?"

"Once upon a time," Elsa said, smiling wistfully. "When I only had to think about the next stage of my routine, it… meant I didn't have to think about other things."

Whether she intended it or not, her sentence hung in the air like an awkwardly placed item of clothing. Her smile slowly fell to a thin line, and her brows furrowed as she let her eyes fall to the floor. The past few days hadn't allowed for it, so without her routine and being stuck in a dark, quiet church, there was little to distract herself from the intrusive thoughts circling like vultures from wearing her down. Memories and images of the past few days assaulting her over and over.

Merida asked, "What's wrong?" with a voice full of concern. It seemed the hanging sentence had the unintended effect of arousing worry.

Her unfocused gaze remaining on the dusty ground, she whispered in a ragged voice, "It keeps going over and over in my head. The Purge. Their ship in flames, sinking into the sea. Anna's face… the graves. The teenager in the street, the way he was savaged… it just won't _stop."_

Merida's tone took on an indignant, seething quality. "This is 'cause of Pitch doin' that blood thing, innit? I'm gonna fucking deck hi-"

She broke off upon noticing Anna dart to her feet and briskly walk to the main door with a concerned frown etched on her face. Her curiosity piqued, Elsa straightened up to get a better look - and peer past Merida's fountain of hair as she too twisted to observe the activity. It meant only one thing - Frost returned safely from his patrol.

Two hours after arriving at the church, he had gone out to patrol the area in case of Reaper activity, and ordered Night Fury to awaken Anna when it was her turn to be on watch. Elsa found she was strangely concerned for his safety, especially since he would be alone in the dark, and offered to accompany him. Somewhat predictably, he rejected the offer, leading to her trying not to take his distrust personally and putting it down to old habits. Still, she was feeling like her team were more like prisoners than anything else. Ghosts did the watch duty. Ghosts did the patrols. Ghosts did the recon and food-hunting. Ghosts made sure the only calls her team made were the calls of nature.

She wanted to help, but they didn't trust her team enough to _let_ her. She didn't know how to convince them she and her friends could be counted on.

There was a heavy clunk followed by the dull creak of the door being pulled open, and a masked and goggled Frost walked into the church, staff in hand and his bag slung over his shoulder. Anna quickly shut the door behind him while he removed his face protection.

"Any sign of them?" she heard her sister say as they slowly walked to the altar. Empty churches possessed excellent acoustics, it seemed, for Anna's voice to be audible despite being at the other end of the room - and for the worry in her tone to be hard to miss.

"I did a circle around the city, but it looks like we're Reaper-free. We should be okay to stay here for the night, but we're leaving at first light. Any trouble?"

"Nah," Anna said. "Pitch has been pretty quiet and kept himself to himself. Fury was lights-out as soon as he woke me up." She gestured to the sleeping creature. "Toothless has been cuddling him like some kind of teddy bear. Freaking adorable."

Elsa watched them sit on the dais steps and heard the sound of his staff retracting. "And the Valkyries?"

She felt a pang of frustration shoot through her heart. When she said the Valkyries were over, she meant it. They had no rank, no ship, no name. They were just four - admittedly well-trained - ex-soldiers looking for a purpose and safety.

"Not a peep." Frost made a sound of acknowledgement and began to rifle through his bag. "Find anything good?" she asked as she somewhat unsubtly tried to peer into it.

"Figured we could use a fire, so I collected some wood," he said as he plucked out several sticks and pieces of wood in a variety of sizes. Elsa let slip a sigh of relief; though she was comfortable in the cold, a soothing fire would be more than welcome.

"Oh, you _are_ awesome." Elsa watched as Anna took what was passed to her, from the tiny bits of kindling to the larger pieces of firewood, and immediately went about constructing a campfire a few feet away. "The cold was really bothering me. Find any other goodies?"

"Actually, yeah." Elsa glanced up at Frost, and the grin he wore was blinding as he pulled more objects out from his bag. "There was one of those food warehouses at the other end of the city, so I took a quick detour."

"Ooooh!" Anna squealed softly. "Real food?"

"Mmmhm." Frost produced what looked like several cans from his bag, along with three packets of something white. "Got some beans, rice, tuna. Not exactly luxury cuisine, but-"

"Don't care." Anna looked positively excited. "It's not ration bars - and I'm eating for two. Bring forth the feast!"

It took a little over an hour for the food to be prepared, but Elsa found herself fascinated by how well they worked together. Using utensils they had taken from the farmhouse, and assorted bricks from outside the church, Anna and Frost had rigged up a rudimentary cooking platform supporting a saucepan over the happily crackling fire. Frost had conjured a pile of snow with which he filled the saucepan, letting the fire lick at the pan's underside to melt and boil it before chucking in the rice. Anna cooked the tinned food simply by holding it in her hands, occasionally stirring it with a fork. She had to admit, the smell of the cooking _was_ enticing and had the unwelcome effect of setting her stomach off on a series of growls and rumbles. Ration bars contained everything the body needed, but filling they were _not._

"Think we'll see some o' that?" Merida asked as she enviously eyed the plates as Frost filled them with food.

"I doubt it," Elsa sighed. She wasn't going to deny it; she was starving, and the food looked _really_ good. However, she somewhat pessimistically assumed the Ghosts wouldn't care enough to let them have some.

Frost rose to his feet clutching two plates, and when he started walking towards them, Elsa coloured herself surprised and began eating her own words. Staring at the steaming food, she licked her lips as she straightened in her seat. Could he _actually_ be giving those to her and Merida?

He stopped just beside her pew and further solidified her disbelief by handing the plates over. "Here. It's not Upper City-level food, though."

"Laddie," Merida said, not bothering to hide her ravenous look while she practically snatched the plate from him, "it's food. I don't care."

Frost did a single chuckle, and it was the dark edge to it that Elsa wasn't sure she liked. "Good thing too," he said as Elsa accepted her plate with far greater elegance, "because you're eating sixty-year old beans."

With a forkful of beans in her mouth, Merida promptly went a shade of green as she stared in wide-eyed horror at him. Elsa had mercifully not gotten around to her first mouthful, but Merida looked like she would be sick.

Frost took one look at her and promptly burst into laughter, leaving Elsa with the tangible urge to punch him in the face - even _if_ his mirth was oddly pleasant to hear. "Relax," he said in a voice broken by his laughter, "rice lasts forever if it's properly kept, and tinned food is herretically sealed-"

"Hermetically sealed," Elsa corrected, curling an eyebrow. Frost clicked his fingers and pointed at her.

"That's the one. So long as it's not dented, kept in a cool, dry place and then cooked properly, you can eat tinned food _decades_ after its use by date. You're literally eating history."

Merida looked down at her food, back up at him, and then back down again, before shrugging with a muffled " _meh,"_ and proceeding to destroy her food. Hunger, it seemed, overrode any qualms she had.

"Well," she said, curling her nose a little at the way Merida was wolfing down her rice as she lifted a forkful of beans to her lips, "thank you for your generosity."

Frost nodded once at her. "No thanks needed - I'm just feeding guests. Nothing more."

He turned and walked away from her, and for some strange reason Elsa found a question bubbling to the surface of her mind. With her mouth still full of beans, she said, "Wait!"

Frost turned and gave her an expectant look. "What?"

She hastily swallowed. "Why are you being so nice to us?"

There was a moment of silence where she watched his face as he frowned in confusion. Merida glanced between them, her hand attached to her mouth by way of fork. Frost ended up simply shrugging, adopted a nonplussed look and said, "What are you talking about? It's just food."

"That's not what I meant." Elsa put her food down at her side and shuffled forward whilst regarding him intently. "Granting us asylum. Defending us against Pitch Black - _twice._ Talking to us in a cordial manner. You even took the time to…" she paused, strangely aware of the slight race of her heart and a prickle of heat to her cheeks, "clean the blood from my hands. Why?"

Frost looked away as though he was watching his surroundings, but Elsa got the feeling it was more out of exasperation. An uncomfortably loud sigh rang out. "Look, I'm gonna be straight with you - I don't like you. Or you," he gestured with his eyes toward Merida, who gave him a " _who cares"_ face. "I don't know you other than as a Valkyrie. No offense."

Elsa frowned - it was hard to _not_ take offense.. "Thing is," he added, "because of you, I'm the leader now. So I've got to be pragmantic-"

"Pragmatic," Elsa corrected. Again.

Another click, and another point. "That's the one. I've got to be pragmatic, so if that means I have to put my personal feelings aside for the good of my team, so we can function _as_ a team, then that's what I have to do. Constant sniping and bad mojo doesn't make for a good work environment. We're assholes, but we're not one-hundred percent dicks."

_How articulate,_ Elsa thought.

"Wow," Merida said behind a mouthful of tuna. "You almost sound like ye grew up."

Frost shot her a glare. "Because of you, I kinda had to."

A flash of indignation crossed Merida's rosy face, but just as she opened her mouth to issue an undoubtedly biting retort, Elsa held up a hand to silence her. "We're actually nice people once you get to know us."

Frost shrugged with palpable indifference. "Maybe you are. Maybe, deep down, you're that same awesome sister Anna wouldn't shut up about when she arrived on the _Star."_ Elsa's heart swelled at his words. Anna once had a higher opinion of her, and it was a warm feeling even his subsequent mutter of, "If you dig deep enough," couldn't dampen. Especially since he looked visibly annoyed at the memory.

"If only yer teammates shared yer oh-so-mature opinion," Merida grumbled.

Frost cocked his head and blinked. "Oh," he said, once her meaning clicked. "Pitch has a reason for being the way he is."

"Which is?"

Frost gave her an odd look through the upper corners of his eyes. "Not my place to tell you," he said, but as he looked over them at the confessionals behind them, he added, "but you try keeping a sunny outlook after living through the worst humanity has to offer."

Elsa followed his gaze for a few seconds before considering the subject closed, and returning to her meal - which, though diminished in taste and visual appearance, still tasted like heaven compared to the ration bars. Merida, however, kept her eyes on the confessional for a lot longer… well after Frost returned to _his_ meal at the campfire.

* * *

 

_Time: 22:14_

 

Of _course._ Of all the places Jack had to pick to shelter the Ghosts and the band of murderous witches tagging along like lost puppies, it had to be a church. He hadn't set foot inside one of those in _years,_ and had decided long ago that if he ever found himself inside one, it would be too soon.

It wasn't the only instance of Jack's poor judgement, frankly, that was pissing Kozmotis off. What the hell was he thinking, letting those criminals join them? Such compassion, such a bleeding heart was a _weakness,_ and Jack was painting a target on his back so they knew just where to stab. Not to mention the glances he snuck at Snow Queen when he thought no-one was looking. The thought filled Kozmotis with nausea and infuriation, so much so that even the smell of food did little to arouse his appetite. Staring through the intricately patterned door, with the church's interior barely visible through the lattice incorporated into the pattern, he curled his lip and growled to himself. Jack was putting the team in danger.

Hence his retreat into the shadows of the confessional. The darkness was infinitely preferable; as much could be inferred from his callsign. Plus, any closer to the Valkyries and there was a high probability of him causing a ruckus - wouldn't _that_ be a shame. Exhaling loudly through his nose, he closed his eyes and leaned back into the confessional, scratching at his beard whilst trying to take himself away from there.

The sound of the second confessional door opening drew his attention, and the rising of the hairs on the back of his neck plus the wide shadow crossing the thin translucent screen separating the booths told him precisely who had parked themselves nearby.

"Come to confess your sins, Valkyrie?" he murmured.

"I dunno. How much time ye got?"

He scoffed quietly. "More than you. Harm any of my friends and your days will be numbered."

There was a derisive snort, from the one called Merida. "Looks like I might die soon 'cause I got a real temptation ta punch ye in the face."

"Of course you do, though I assume you're here for another reason."

"Aye," she said. "I wanted ta know why ye're such a massive prick, and Frost just said ye lived through tha worst humanity has ta offer. So it got me curious."

"Stop it," he growled, suppressing the real urge to manifest a fist blade and drive it through the screen. "Stop pretending you care."

"What if I do?" she retorted. "What if I don't? What if I just want ta understand why ye were such a dick ta Elsa?"

He rolled his eyes. "Sure, and you want to help, is that it? Maybe so you could buy back the soul you sold to become a Valkyrie?"

His words hit a nerve, although considering her apparent hotheaded nature, it would be difficult not to. Irritation and offense rushed through her snarled reply. "What if ma soul was _taken_ from me, huh? Ye think about that? What if I wanna fight ta buy back every single bit of it, but I cannae do it 'cause I'm a glorified prisoner? Ye don't get ta judge me unless ye know me."

"Neither do you," Kozmotis retorted. "You don't know a _thing_ about me."

"And yet even with yer threats, yer anger and yer hatred, here I am, askin'."

He shot a confused look through the screen, and though her face was obscured, he had the acute impression she was looking right at him. "You're not scared. The other three look at me with wary eyes, but you don't. Why?"

"When yer inches from bein' sliced in half by a guy wieldin' a door, not much else scares ye," she answered bluntly. "Tha Hammer scares me. Never seein' ma family again terrifies tha life out of me. Sorry, laddie, but next ta that? Ye're just not that scary."

Kozmotis exhaled a single burst from his nose in surprise, and though he would never admit it even under torture, he was impressed. He thought he'd given off enough signs that he wanted to be left alone, especially since his mind was beset with bad memories - yet this Merida actively sought him out. And whether he liked it or not… her presence was distracting. "So you want to hear my life's story, do you?"

"I'm not 'xactly pressed fer time."

He sat quietly for a moment as he debated his options. As far as he was concerned, his past life was just that: a past life. A relic of a younger Kozmotis Pitchiner who differed vastly from his current self. A weak, idealistic boy. There wasn't anything she could use against him, no weaknesses she could exploit. Even if she _did,_ he would make her regret it for the rest of her life - all three seconds of it. He decided there wasn't much he could lose - and if it got her off his back, then all the better. "Very well," he answered. "I'll indulge you. Step outside."

He stood and pushed open the door, letting it gently swing shut while he waited. There were a few seconds of delay, which he sensed were down to Merida sitting in stunned surprise that he was actually entertaining her request. The door eventually swung open, and preceded by her fountain of flame-like locks Merida stepped out into the candlelight, regarding him with an undefinable expression.

He glanced over at the rest of the group as he sauntered to the middle aisle. Anna was sprawled over the dais, using her lilac hoodie on the first step as a pillow. Jack was hunched over a map, undoubtedly plotting their next journey, and it seemed two of the three Valkyries had turned in for the night. "Do you know what this place is, Valkyrie?"

"Nah." she answered once she pulled up at his side and crossed her arms. "And don't call me Valkyrie. Ma name's Merida. I ain't one of them any more."

Kozmotis ignored her - they weren't nor would ever be friends, so he had no intention of using her first name. "Every Sunday, people from all over would come into buildings like this, where they would worship the invisible deity in the sky. There would be songs, laughter, music. Readings from holy scripture to devout followers, so they could be told how to live their lives. This place would be full of men, women and children… now look at it. There's nothing but darkness, emptiness and silence, inside nothing more than a simple building."

As he spoke, his eyes traced over every inch of the church's internal architecture. "When Unity rose to power, they looked at religion. They looked at centuries of war, where armies fought over whose invisible friend was the best, over who had more right to a supposed holy land, or to punish the unbelievers. They saw the devout, and their blind following of organised religion, and decided: there wasn't enough space in their territory for more than one source of indoctrination. So all religion must be banned. All holy texts burned, all worship punishable by imprisonment, all holy buildings condemned _._ "

His eyes came to rest on the crucifix. Jesus Christ, Son of God, nailed to the cross to wipe away the sins of humanity. He chuckled bitterly inside himself. "Unity took the concept of a holy war and went one better. They didn't just kill religion… they killed God."

He took one look at Merida's face and rolled his eyes at the blank expression. Of course; why would she be aware of it? Religious studies weren't part of the school curriculum and hadn't been since Unity took control of the education system, so the idea she would be in any way aware of faith was naïve. He might as well have been speaking another language. "So…" she said, elongating the 'o', "how is that relevant to ye?"

His eyes returned to the cross and slowly traced down to rest on the leftmost pew closest to the altar. It wasn't the same church by any stretch of the imagination, but the position was the same. "When I was a young boy, I would go anywhere to escape my father's fists and my mother's apathy. He would beat me black and blue, and when he tired of using me as his personal punch bag, Mother would use a cellular regenerator. I suppose it was her way of looking after me, but it only ensured I looked undamaged ready for when Father's rage next rained down on me. Sometimes I saw it coming, and I would escape. I would roam in any direction, going on my personal adventures. Every hour I spent away from home, was an hour of free of pain and fear. I would dream of a faraway place where I could be safe and be on my own."

He threw Merida a quick glance, and her expression was as he expected: horrified pity. When Jack and Anna first heard it, their expressions were much the same - and just as it did then, the sympathy in her eyes churned his stomach. He focused on the ceiling, where the paint was cracked and where large chunks of it were missing. "I found a place like this, and I was fascinated by it. The architecture, the vibe, the design. So far removed from the shoddy settlement where I used to live. I spent many hours inside its walls, until one day, I was not alone."

He pointed to the leftmost pew. "An old man was sitting in the pew closest to the altar, and he was muttering to himself. I turned to leave, but somehow he noticed my presence."

"What happened?"

"He called out to me, and asked if I would stay for a while with him." Kozmotis scratched at both sides of his beard and made a loose shrugging gesture with the same hand. "Of course, I was hesitant - until he said, " _don't be afraid, son. I won't hurt you"._ So I stayed. We talked, and we talked. He told me stories of the war, read passages from his little brown leather-bound book he called the Bible. Regaled me with anecdotes of the times when God helped him. I had spent so long there, it was almost dawn when I realised the time. So we agreed, we would meet in the church every Sunday for a few hours."

"Sounds like ye made a friend," she remarked. "I'm surprised."

Watching Jack intently, Kozmotis continued. It was apparent that he was up to no good if carefully leaning down and sliding a pan of water under Hiccup's hand was any sign. "I did. We prayed, sang, read scripture together. As days became weeks, I started to believe in God. Even though it flew in the face of modern science, even though everything around me disproved God's existence, I still held onto that belief."

He made a mental note to give Hiccup a wide berth in the morning.

"What made ye believe so strongly?"

"Hope, Valkyrie. Faith." Kozmotis raised his eyes to the crucifix, taking every inch of the wooden sculpture. The gentle amber light cast upon it by the campfire danced over Jesus' body, and the shadows flitted from each indentation, recess and groove. A neverending battle of darkness and light, each side giving and losing ground with every second. "The belief, or need, for something better. The world is shit. It is, it was, and always will be shit, because humans make it so. People believed in deities either because they wanted to absolve themselves of responsibility for their actions, or because they had to believe there was a light in the darkness. I wanted to believe that… and for a time, I did."

Merida tilted her head, and the left corner of her lips hitched ever so slightly. "Well far be it fer me ta state tha obvious, but I'm guessin' all good things came ta an end," she drawled, folding her arms.

Kozmotis slowly nodded, his eyes falling to the altar. "Yes, it did. One Sunday, when I returned home, my father was tearing apart and burning something out back, and he had this look on his face, like he was enjoying every second of it."

The air between them changed with the sound of her arms unfolding and dropping at her sides with such volume, it seemed like they were made of lead. He heard the quietest breath, and didn't miss how the sassy standoffish quality had vanished, leaving a gentle tremor. "He didn't…"

"Yes, he did." Kozmotis pulled in a deep breath through his nose - he wanted to see her reaction to everything he was about to say, so he slowly turned his head and looked right at her. In the cosy campfire light, her bouffant locks were a dim red, but her sky-blue eyes twinkled in the light as she watched him intently. "I asked him what he had done. He had noticed the regularity of my absence. So, he followed me, and found out what I was doing every Sunday. He said I was pathetic for believing in a dead faith, and was disrespecting him, my mother, and Unity for practicing a banned religion. I knew he hated that I found something precious in my life, so he snuffed it out. He proudly showed me his cut and bloody knuckles, and in his hands was an old, brown, leather-bound Bible. While I was taking a slow walk home, my father had murdered a peaceful, defenseless old man in cold blood inside a _church_ , stolen his most precious possession, and was burning it right in front of me. He wanted to make me _suffer_."

Merida slowly blinked, and asked in a quiet voice, "What did ye do?"

He snorted bitterly. Standing around for so long was numbing his legs, so he sat on a pew to his left and flopped against the backrest. To his hidden surprise, Merida followed and took a seat beside him. "I lost my mind. I attacked him. He expected it, however, and subjected me to the harshest beating I ever had. And while I lay on the ground trying to catch my breath, he made sure I was looking when he threw what was left of the Bible onto the fire, before picking up one of the red hot logs and coming for me."

"And then?"

Staring off into an invisible point on the pew three rows ahead, his brow rose. "I was saved - but not by God. By _me._ I was so furious, all I wanted to do was kill him. So I scrambled to my feet and tried to punch him as hard as I could in the chest - and in that second… I underwent my bloom. One second, he was rushing toward me. The next, he was slack, blood seeping from his mouth. A blade of sand had manifested over my fist and had been plunged through his chest." He paused, and his lips dived in between his teeth to wet themselves. "When the blade retracted, I realised I had killed my father."

He looked down at his right hand, and conjured a small wisp of black sand that looped and flew in a small sphere over his palm, like a fish bereft of direction or purpose. Silence reigned while he stared at his own gifts, the sand's frenetic, aimless swirling a reflection of its wielder's emotions.

She inhaled a shaky breath. "Fuck me, that's… what about yer mam?"

His brow lifted an inch, and his grey lips quirked sideways. Still the swirling sand held his gaze. "Looking back, I think the years of abuse had broken her mind, so when she saw my father impaled on a blade, and saw what I had become, she snapped. She screamed ' _demon!',_ picked up the axe we used for firewood, and tried to kill me... and I froze. It was like my body was a statue, unable to do anything while she charged at me… and when my powers acted out of my control? It was like I was there just to watch as they lashed themselves around her neck… and snapped it." Kozmotis paused, closing his eyes. Every second that passed, every painful memory that surfaced was more of a warning that, by opening himself to this Valkyrie, he was making a mistake. "I remember falling to my knees and screaming until my throat was raw. I had murdered my entire family in the space of a minute. I knew I had to get out of there, so I ran. I ran, and I ran."

Merida twisted around to sit on her left hip and supported her head with an elbow on the backrest and a fist on her temple. "But it wasn't yer fault, ye were defendin' yerself."

He snorted bitterly. The sand no longer interested him, so with an abrupt clench of his hand into a fist, it vanished. "Maybe so, but I still did it. I went from settlement to settlement, trying to make sense of it all. How God could allow this old man to die, how I could be a good Christian and at the same time make myself an orphan. I couldn't reconcile what I had learned with what happened and what was going on around me, so as the days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, I found myself losing my faith. I still had hope - so when I arrived in a settlement called Perdition, and I saw a woman about to be assaulted by two men twice her size, I intervened. Maybe I thought it was God giving me a sign, a chance to understand. So I defended her. I killed one man and severely wounded the other. But when I turned to the woman to ask if she was okay, she took one look at me, and with the same fear in her eyes as when those men attacked her, she screamed ' _abby freak!'_ and fled."

Merida scoffed with such cynicism, he gave her a look that _wasn't_ supposed to be impressed. A woman after his own heart. "No good deed goes unpunished, aye?"

He looked down at his hands and laced his fingers together so one thumb could gently stroke the other. "I wasn't expecting thanks or adoration, but… for her to react the way she did? Well, a few minutes later, I was chased by militia men she had alerted. I was lucky to get out of Perdition with my life, but what was left of my faith died in that settlement. I realised that the world only made sense if I forced it to. You see, the book of Revelations talks about the Day of Judgment, where God would come down and claim his followers. The dead would rise, and those judged worthy would live in heaven while the unworthy went to hell. The armies of man would march upon each other, and the devil would claim the world in fire and ash. I had spent many months hoping for that day, but after I slaughtered an entire squad of patrolling clones in a city as ruined as Des Moines, I looked around… and I realised something."

"What?"

"The Day of Judgment that I had been hoping for had already been and gone; we just called it the Third World War." He laughed bitterly, garnering a wary eye from the Valkyrie sat beside him. "The armies of man had already marched. The flames that cleansed the earth, were the nuclear missiles. Who we referred to as _survivors_ were in fact merely the people left behind, and the Devil? Unity. I was worshipping a deity that was never there to begin with, living on a world he had already forsaken."

"So," she said in somewhat of a blurt, earning her a glance and a raised eyebrow, "ye lost yer faith, and became tha prick ye are now?"

His gaze became challenging, like he was daring her to continue the path of stoking his ire. Fearlessness and stupidity were sometimes indistinguishable, and he was curious if the Valkyrie knew which was which. With a half-curled smile, he said, "Yes. I found my purpose by doing what I seemed to do best: kill. I hunted down and slaughtered clone patrols, militia members, and when the Ghosts found me? I heard my true calling."

Still, she studied him. It was strange - of all the people he interacted with for the first time, _she_ was the only one to not show him an ounce of fear. He snorted, rolling his eyes behind the slowest blink, and wore a disdainful expression as he pulled himself to his feet by the pew ahead of him. "That is why I am the way I am to you and your band of murderers, Valkyrie. When I look at you, I see my father. I doubt that will ever change."

He turned his back on her, and was navigating his way to the other end so he didn't have to sidle past her when she said, with perfect casual bravery, "Then I'll hafta change it fer ye. I'm truly sorry tae hear about what happened tae ye-"

He scoffed and drawled with hopefully obvious disdain. "Spare me your pity. It's nauseating and false."

"I'm not finished, so ye can have a nice tall tankard o' shut tha fuck up."

Her words, belligerent in the way she delivered them, caused him to freeze in step and whirl around to throw her one hell of a hostile glare. How dare she talk to him in such a way! She, who had every inch the blood on her hands Snow Queen did.

With eyes fixed on his like he was a target, like he was supposed to look at nothing else but her, she rose from the pew and walked towards him, stopping less than eight inches away to look up into his golden gaze. She did not blink, nor did she flinch. If he was fear, she was his opposite. "I cannae go back and change what happened. I'm not gonna make excuses. I did it, I'm owning it. But I am _not_ like yer dad, and whether yer bony-"

She jabbed his chest.

"Lanky-"

Another jab. Why was he not reacting? Two sharp prods in his chest from anyone else and he would have lashed out. Something worth thinking about, he pondered - when he wasn't indignant with her brash manner, of course.

"-arse likes it or not, I'm gonna prove it. I'm gonna let my actions from now on speak as tae ma character. Ye still wanna hate me?" She spread her hands. "Fine, but ye'll be eatin' yer prejudice."

Kozmotis rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. "Good luck with that," he sneered.

"I dinnae need luck." He cast a look over his shoulder. She was staring at him with a determined look, her arms folded. "I believe in fate."

She turned away from him and sidled out of the pew. His eyes lingered on the back of her head, watching as the flame-like curls twitched and swayed with every single movement. She truly was a peculiar woman - first conversations with anyone always had an element of wariness, like he was some kind of time bomb liable to paint the walls in red. Which he had done before, but that was beside the point. Why? Was she confident that her team would back her up if he lashed out, or was she truly not scared of him? For a man who lived his life around fear, it was a curious notion.

But then she stuck a finger in the air as though remembering something, like an appointment she had made. "Oh, and I wasn't pityin' ye. Just 'cause ye had a shit upbringin' does not give ye the right to act like a royal prick ta Elsa, or ta any of us."

Silence reigned between them where he pondered whether he liked her brazen behaviour. It was far different than what he was used to, that was for sure. Her challenging expression on her countenance lingered for a few seconds, before her eyes softened as much as her voice did when she said, "Fer the record, though? I'm sorry yer life was tha way it was. No-one should have tae endure what ye did."

She turned away and successfully escaped the pew, leaving the dumbfounded Kozmotis Pitchiner, warrior-slash-serial killer to wonder how the hell a Valkyrie was less than two feet away from him for all that time, and could still walk away unscathed.

And why that notion didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have.

* * *

Jack eyed the unfolding conversation between Kozmotis and Merida with increasing bewilderment - and to his surprise, an odd, undefined emotion that conveyed itself in the simplest of words.

_Huh._

He watched them as they talked amongst themselves, their hushed voices denoting whatever the topic of conversation was, was personal. Kozmotis' expression of contemplative remembrance was enough of a sign of that, but what took Jack off-guard the most was how Merida was the one to initiate the contact and conversation - somewhat aggressively - yet became the listener and absorber whilst Kozmotis took the ball and ran with it.

"It's kinda scary, isn't it?" Anna mused mid-yawn, straightening up to sit at his side. Jack shot her the quickest of glances, not wanting to miss the unfolding talk. There was the sound of someone stirring to his right, and a mental countdown began in his head.

She wasn't wrong on some level, which was probably why there was an element of wariness to how Jack watched them talk together. Merida wasn't a meek or mild woman by any stretch of the imagination, and it only took a few hours at a Lower City bar to come to that estimation. There she was, talking to someone whose respect for the sixth rule was the only thing stopping him from returning to his old ways. Jack's legs had been tensed ever since they came out of the confessional, ready to leap into the fray and intervene before blood was shed.

Only, there was no blood. Kozmotis talking, and Merida _listening._ If that could happen, then who knew what else could be in store for them?

"Oh," he murmured to himself, remembering the entire point of a prank: getting away with it. He rose to his feet and crept toward a snoring Toothless with all the stealth of stalking a clone patrol, the curve of a wicked grin alight on his face. He bent down and carefully lifted Hiccup's submerged hand out of the pan of water by a pinch of the sleeve, and made sure to dab his fingers dry on the bottom hem of his T-shirt before bringing himself, and the pan, back near the fire.

"When he finds out, you are gonna get it," Anna warned. Jack cast her a smug glance - of _course_ she was smirking.

"Says the one who put bells on his cybernetic foot."

"It was Christmas!" she defended herself, pouting. "I was just trying to get him into the spirit!"

Jack didn't even look at her while he picked up the staff from the floor and continued the masterful deadpan. "And then you told our kindergarten class he was the off-duty Santa Claus, so they'd chase him around the ship and make his foot jingle."

Anna spread her hands, then clasped them together. "I was bringing them the joy of Christmas, too!"

"Sure. Did gluing cotton balls to his face help?"

"That was you," she pointed out, waggling a finger and giving him a mock-offended look.

Jack gave her a funny look, blinking, before his face lit up. "Oh, yeah!" He poked at the leg poking out from under Toothless' wing. "Wake up, Sleeping Fishbone. You're on watch."

There was a whiny murmur from somewhere under the black leather. Jack gave his leg a harder prod with the staff before planting it in front of him and leaning into it while he kept an eye on the two conversationalists. Kozmotis stood up rather abruptly, only to freeze in step when Merida took to her feet and issued something he couldn't quite hear. Jack's hand tensed around the staff. When Merida strode right up to him and jabbed him in the chest, Jack shifted his right foot back ready to launch.

Yet, Kozmotis wasn't responding; he simply regarded her with a dumbfounded expression. Maybe it was Merida's demeanour - the first real conversation he had with Anna was after she punched him in the face. He watched as Merida turned her back on him and walked back to her friends, stopping once to say one last thing, and carried on. As she turned into the aisle and caught his eye, she gave him a slow nod with a knowing look.

Jack's shoulders slowly relaxed, and the breath he was holding escaped in a slow sigh. It seemed Merida had just joined him and Anna in the exclusive club of Knowing Kozmotis' Teenage Years.

The sound of an anguished groan of, "Not again!" reached his ears with hilarious precision, distracting him from the shaking of Merida's head as Elsa subjected her to some strenuous questioning, and chasing away the simmering tension in his limbs. He slowly traced his eyes down to Hiccup, who stared at something under Toothless' wing like he did when the very same dragon ate his last chicken wing - exasperation. "Why does this keep happening?" he whined.

Jack had to bite _both_ of his lips to keep from laughter giving away his culpability. Anna cleared her throat and made like she was supremely interested in a hammer-shaped patch of dust on the floor. "I got nothin', dude," Jack said, trying like hell to keep himself composed. "It's a mystery."

"Dammit." Hiccup manoeuvred onto his butt to slide himself out from under the wing and awkwardly climbed to his feet. The campfire's light was unforgiving in the way it illuminated the dark, wet patch. "Gimme a sec, I need to change my pants," he groaned and gingerly moved a few steps to grab his backpack from under the closest pew before waddling off to one of the side rooms like he had ridden a horse for too long.

"One day, I'll tell him," he mused out loud into the fire. The soft crunch of tiny stones and dust underfoot caught his attention, and he looked up just as Kozmotis was lowering himself to the floor on the fire's other side.

"When?"

"One day." Jack repeated through a wide grin. "Maybe in the sky at a hundred miles an hour."

Kozmotis scoffed, and sneered, "It's _adorable_ that you still think you are faster than Toothless."

Jack looked at him in puzzlement. "Um, I am?"

"Tell me, Jack. Do you remember the loud boom over the _Star_ a few years ago?" Kozmotis paused seemingly for dramatic emphasis. Jack looked at Anna for either reassurance or clarification, and all he received was a knowing nod. "Hiccup was on the deck trying to record Toothless' speed. That _boom_ was Toothless breaking the sound barrier."

Jack felt like his whole world was coming down, or was it his ego? Sometimes it was tricky to separate the two. He looked to Toothless, who was at that point wide awake with eyes of smug self-satisfaction. He looked back at Kozmotis. "Really?" he said faintly.

"Yes." Kozmotis' golden gaze crinkled. "The only reason he flies slower than you do, is that while your abnormality adapted your body for high speed flight, Hiccup's did not. If Toothless were to stop holding back, he would kill Hiccup."

He glanced back at Toothless, who rolled onto his back and stretched his legs, clearly content in his superiority.

Bastard.

Completely off-balance, he looked at Anna. "Did you know about this?"

Anna nodded. "Ayup." She tapped at her chest and winced. "Daughter of scientists, remember?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whined with no particular heart or energy.

She shrugged. "Meh. It was more fun the other way."

He mockingly buried his head in his hands and stared in exaggerated shock into the fire. "My God. My whole life has been a lie…"

Anna giggled and jabbed him in the leg with her boot. "Aw, c'mon. Ease up on the woe-is-me there, Drama Queen. Need your head back in the game. We need to work out what we're doing with our passengers," she said, jabbing a thumb behind her. Following the motion, Jack looked over Anna's shoulder, and noticed Elsa gazing wistfully at the back of her sister's head. As soon as she caught his eye, however, she looked away and went back to talking with Merida. Just as it did in the farmhouse, and just as it lingered in the days since then, a tiny and dull ache sat in the bottom of his heart.

"I've been thinking about that, actually." He tore his gaze away from Elsa and looked between Anna and Kozmotis to draw and keep their attention. "They're clinging to us for survival, 'cause we know how the game works. They don't. Without our skillset, the second they step into a place like Perdition, they're screwed. If they get captured, I don't trust that they won't buy themselves a stay of execution by telling Unity where to look."

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting, Jack?" Kozmotis asked, his head turned an inch while he regarded him with one narrowed, wary eye.

"I am." Jack rose to his feet using his staff. "We're going to train them."

"Huh," came Hiccup's mildly nasal voice from behind him. "And I thought my life couldn't get crazier." He looked at Kozmotis. "Strange bedfellows, am I right?"

The tallest Ghost bobbed his head, staring off into the fire. Jack eyed him with surprise; surely his objections would have been the first and the fiercest. It _was_ the first - but the fiercest it was _not._ "Are you absolutely sure, Jack? If I'm hearing you correctly, you are suggesting we teach the people who tried to kill us for what we are, the skills they could potentially use against us. You are suggesting we give them a knife, and trust them not to use it to stab us in the back."

"Trust them? Hardly." Jack scoffed. "I trust _us_ to never let that happen. C'mon," he waved them to follow him, "let's go address the troops."

He walked towards them. Elsa was the first to notice their approach and hurriedly leaned over to shake Rapunzel and Astrid with enough force to register on the Richter Scale whilst hissing something he couldn't quite catch, before sitting back down. She watched him expectantly whilst the two Rip Van Winkle enthusiasts groaned, rubbing at their reddened eyes as they underwent the herculean task of sitting up. He was sure he heard Astrid murmur, " _you wake me up, you lose a hand…"_

Under Elsa's interested gaze, Jack parked himself on the closest pew and leaned on the backrest, kicking his feet up to lay them out along the flat wood. Rapunzel smacked her lips whilst trying to keep her bleary eyes open, complete lack of focus in her stare. He gave each of them a look, chuckling at Astrid's scowling irritation at being woken up so early, before settling his eyes down on Elsa, whose patient, cerulean gaze went right back at him. "We've got a problem," he announced abruptly enough to give Rapunzel a mild start.

"How unfortunate," Elsa said - was she actually serious, or was there an element of sarcasm to her voice? "Is there any way we can help?"

Serious. _Huh._

"Not really." Jack looped his arm over the backrest and intertwined his fingers together. "You four _are_ the problem." Frowns of all types were fired at him, with Elsa and Rapunzel winning the awards for the most worried. "I'm gonna be honest - you're all dead weight. You're a liability. Clones and militia guys don't know what we look like, but you? I'd be surprised if Hans hasn't sent pictures of you four to every settlement he can."

"You're not going to leave us here, are you?" Elsa asked softly, and Jack didn't miss how her eyes flicked up to Anna for reassurance. Worried. His deadpanning skills were getting better.

"Here's the thing," he said, adjusting his position on the pew. "Plan A for us was to find somewhere safe and hole up, so we can wait for the right moment to take Unity down. I even did a speech about it. Was a good speech." He looked up at Hiccup. "Was it a good speech?"

"Three out of five stars, but the synthohol takes it up to a four," Hiccup said. "It was better than the one on the _Star."_

Jack threw him a hearty scowl.

"Bitch." he hissed. Hiccup cracked a smirk and chuckled loudly. He turned back to Elsa, who clearly had to get used to his quirks in the way she stared blankly between them.

"What was Plan B?" Astrid said.

"There wasn't really a Plan B, because this," he made a swirly gesture around him with his hand, "wasn't a situation we were expecting. We didn't have a _Valkyries-Fall-Into-Our-Laps_ contingency. Which means we're going to have to improvise."

"Ye can't leave us ta fend fer ourselves. That ain't fair," Merida pointed out, brandishing a finger at him.

"We're not." He let the words settle around them, and took in the confused - and in Astrid's case, impatient - expressions around him. Screwing around with people was fun, especially when you're being intentionally vague, and they're enemies of the regime.

He rolled over onto his left hip and kept his fingers together as he directly faced them. "We're going to teach you how to disappear. We're going to show you how to hide in plain sight, gather intel without firing a shot, shake off a tail and how to pass through a settlement like you were never there. We're gonna teach you the skills that kept us alive all these years."

Three of the four Valkyries looked excitedly at each other, with Elsa the only one remaining composed. The way her eyes lit up as soon as he told them what would happen, though? That was an oddly satisfying sight. Especially the smile. "You mean," Rapunzel said brightly, "you're gonna teach us how to be Ghosts?"

Jack shook his head with enough vigor to give his brain one hell of a ride, and there was a low growl from Kozmotis behind him, to boot. "Nuh-uh. No way. Unless you're spectacularly good at hiding it, and if you were, then we'd have a _real_ problem, you're not abnormals." The light in Elsa's eyes faded just as he glanced at her. "We four would readily give our lives for each other, but none of you have earned that trust. Maybe one day you might, but don't hold your breath."

Rapunzel frowned, and pouted as though he told her she wasn't going to ride the pretty pony. She seemed to really like the idea, but being a Ghost meant absolute trust. Until he could look at them without one of those looks falling under the heading of ' _suspicious'_ , there was no way in hell they'd be a part of the team.

"So!" he clapped his hands together and pushed off the pew to stand. "My name is Mr. Frost, welcome to Ghost High, and we're going to start by pairing people off. One Valkyrie to one Ghost. Astrid?"

"Yes, Mr. Frost…" she sneered, replete with one hell of a simper.

"You're with Night Fury."

She looked at him in surprise for a few seconds before her expression looked like it was her birthday. He swore he saw a subtle fist pump, and a quietly hissed, " _yes!"_

Silently chuckling to himself, he looked at the woman with bountiful red locks. "Merida?"

"I volunteer," Kozmotis interrupted.

"Wait, _what?"_

Seven faces turned toward him with a ' _wha-a-a-a-a?!' look_ and then gave the same treatment to the bewildered and slightly blushing woman. Silence descended in the vicinity, but it was less derived from tension and more like an alien had fallen through the ceiling, dusted itself off and offered them each a slice of chocolate fudge cake.

With ice cream. Can't forget the ice cream.

"Fine," Jack said. "Checkers it is."

Kozmotis' abrupt choice meant that there were only four left, and it was increasingly feeling like being picked for sports by the other kids. Elsa looked between them with building hope, obvious despite her attempts to conceal it in the way she leaned forward and stiffened her shoulders, waiting with bated breath. Jack moved his eyes to Anna in the space of a blink and threw the silent question into his gaze.

He received a silent answer in a barely perceptible shake of her head. Immediately his eyes switched back to Elsa… and his heart twinged at the complete change in expression. Her eyes sank to the floor, crestfallen, and he noticed the rise and dip of her throat. "Rapunzel," he said with far less energy than before, "you're with Streak."

He looked back at Elsa, who sniffed as she forced her eyes up to meet his. Cold as he tried to be, the way her eyes radiated how her hopes were raised then crushed in the space of a few seconds poked at his heart like several needles, and he made a mental note to pull Anna aside in the morning. "Which means you've got me, Snow Queen."

"Of course," she said with a voice that cracked ever so slightly, and the corners of her lips hitched up half an inch. "I look forward to it."

"Good." He tapped his staff twice on the tiled floor. Two dull clangs rang out. "Night Fury's on watch, but the rest of us are gonna get some sleep. We're gonna need it, 'cause tomorrow?" He grinned, taking the time to meet everyone's eyes at least once.

"We're going to Perdition."


	41. Letting It Go

" **Letting It Go"**

 

_Date: December 8th, 2073_

 

_Time: 04:12_

 

"Neve…"

Elsa's eyes snapped open with a start, her previous state of fitful sleep a fond memory. The church pew felt as unforgiving on her body as it did before she slept, and the darkness revealed by the sharpening of her vision was banished by the campfire's warm amber light drawn over the ceiling. The combined light snoring of three nearby women reached her ears, further adding to the relief calming her heart - she was still in the church, and nothing was going wrong.

"No… stop!"

Except for the scared murmurs from near the dais. It took but a few seconds to recognise their owner, along with the other voice whispering comforting words in response.

"Don't leave me…"

Elsa's breath hitched at the tremulous tone of a little boy lost and quickly pushed herself up by an arm to peer over the pew in front of her. Concern etched on her face, her eyes rested upon the fitful Frost, jerking and gently thrashing in his sleep, his upper body cradled in Anna's lap whilst his head twitched in the crook of her left arm. Her braided hair was unkempt, so Frost's mutters must have stirred her, too.

For some reason she had yet to identify, Elsa found herself holding back the urge to get up and help. Maybe it was the tremble in his voice that was twinging her heart.

"Mom… Emma…"

Anna's whispers were gentle in response. "Shhh. It's just a nightmare. It's okay."

Frost's vocal utterances dwindled both in fear and volume, and thanks to both the calming words of her sister and the passage of time, the nightmare was soon banished as he became still. Anna laid him back down with great care, and it was when she drew his thin cotton blanket around him that she looked up.

Their eyes met.

Elsa dropped her gaze and laid back down, mentally scolding herself for intruding on what was probably a private moment. Was Anna aware she was being watched the whole time? She stared at the back of the time-ravaged pew, losing herself in thought. Frost was having nightmares, too. Was Anna enduring the same?

She heard footsteps echo across the huge hall that grew in volume as they approached. Grimacing slightly, she braced herself for a stern reprimand.

"Hey."

Only, the tone of voice couldn't be further from the harshness she expected. Surprised, she craned her head up; Anna stood over her, with eyes of nervous hope that were easily discernible in her silhouette cast by the campfire, the light of which also reflected off the myriad errant strands of strawberry-blonde hair sticking at all ends, giving off a kind of halo.

"Can we… can we talk?"

Elsa gave her a blank look. "Talk?" she repeated, barely aware of how _lame_ it sounded.

Anna looked down and fiddled with her hands, wincing slightly. "If—you know—you're not going back to sleep." Her hands shot up as though to calm someone. "I mean, if you are—you know—that's fine, I can just-"

"Uh…" Elsa blinked a few more times and pushed herself up, taken aback by the difference between the Anna standing before her and the distant, guarded Anna from every moment prior. Her mind pointedly cleared its throat, reminding her that one usually responds to questions asked of them.

"Yes," she said, babbling. "Of course! Sorry, I'm just-" Elsa looked around as though she had forgotten something, before she engaged her brain and shuffled to the side, pulling away the strange pillow she had been resting on, "-yes, of course. Sorry, yes, talk! Wait, don't you need to go back to sleep? I mean, not that I'm complaining—wait, what?"

Anna emitted a low tittering and parked herself in the newly cleared space. "Nah. It's my turn to be on watch, anyway."

Elsa drew a strand of hair behind her left ear, and stared at the back of the pew whilst casting regular glances at her sister, who sat quietly with her elbows on her knees as she rubbed her hands together. A pregnant silence sat between them, one that did little for Elsa's growing anxiety.

"How long has he been having nightmares?" she blurted out. Of all the conversation starters, it wasn't exactly light. Ice-smashing instead of breaking.

Anna's eyes flicked up to Frost, and lingered. Elsa could see her jaw tense as it jutted out, and the briefest dip of her brow. "Every night since the Purge."

"About his surrogate mother?"

Anna nodded slowly. "And his birth mom, and his sister. Watching them die every night. We've all been having them."

The pregnant silence fell once again. Hanging on every word, Elsa scrutinised her sister's face, and in the subtle glow of the fire dancing on her face she could see every single facial tic, every dip of her brow, and every time the inside of her lower lip was nibbled by her teeth. Her classic micro-expressions when she was weighing options in her mind, whether to carry on talking or not. Yet, with the abruptness of a crack of thunder as soft as a cloud, she blurt-whispered, "I see my husband in mine."

It was strange how, even clad in the clothing of a warrior, Anna wasn't so different from how Elsa remembered. Especially in the way she cast a few nervous glances her way, and winced slightly as she scolded herself. "We were supposed to always be there for each other no matter what, Frost and I, but… first few nights, I failed him. 'Cause… 'cause I knew he was having them, but I was so wrapped up in my grief and my own nightmares, I-" Anna hesitated, and closed her mouth to chew at her lip, "-I let him fight them alone. First rule they ever taught me was ' _never fight alone'_ and I just went ahead and broke it."

Her thumbs began to roughly knead each other in agitation, and Elsa was struck with the desire to hold them still. "Because of that," she continued, "I was a shitty friend. Just like now, y'know, except it's ' _sister'_ instead of ' _friend'."_

Elsa's left hand shot out to cover Anna's warring fingers before she even thought, and there were a few seconds of worry in her mind, fear that Anna would freak out, undoing it all. To her amazement and quiet relief, Anna didn't move a muscle - perhaps she hadn't noticed, but Elsa would still take it.

"You're not a shitty sister."

It was then that Anna's head swivelled to look at her, and Elsa's breath hitched at the look in her eyes: confusion, anger, pain and fear. "But I am, aren't I? I'm your sister, that's supposed to mean _something,_ right? I'm supposed to put aside everything that-" her teeth clenched together as though she was holding back a tide just so she could squeeze out a few words, "- _hurts so much_ , forget all that's happened over the past few weeks—hell, _years,_ because we're family! That's what I'm supposed to do, right?"

Elsa's lower lip found its place between her teeth, and though her throat constricted to an inconvenient degree, she blinked back a growing dryness in her eyes and said, "It would be naïve to think so."

Anna's eyes dropped, and hands broke apart just enough for Elsa's fingers to slip in between. In an action that simultaneously hitched her breath and made her heart do one hell of a thump, she squeezed them. Elsa's mind evaporated along with her insides.

Then Anna murmured the two words she didn't expect, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for how I was to you - but I'm not sorry for why."

She looked up, eyes glistening, lip trembling, voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "I don't hate you. Not at all. Not even a little bit. We're family, you're my sister. And I love you, no matter what. But this is a _lot_ to take in, and I'm not even sure I can. I am barely holding it together as it is."

Elsa didn't dare say a word. She didn't want to. She would burn the earth before interrupting Anna's flow, for fear she may never again hear the words making her heart sing.

Anna looked back at the pew with unfocused, remembering eyes. "I had this memory of you, the night of your graduation. How beautiful you looked, how your eyes were full of love. How _happy_ you were. And it was a memory that kept me going after I lost you to your bedroom door. The last time I saw you, free and happy. When the Ghosts saved me, and brought me to my new home, I found out I couldn't see you again. Unity knew my face, and if I was captured-" she closed her eyes, and Elsa noticed a huge dip and rise of her throat, "-then I would be putting everyone else at risk. So I held onto that memory like it was my last breath."

Anna released her left hand and rested it on top of Elsa's. It was like the world had fallen away; there were no Ghosts, no Valkyries, no Unity and no Alliance. Just two sisters together.

And it couldn't be more perfect.

"That memory became a fantasy. I'd dream that I trained, harnessed my powers, that I was _strong_ enough to break down that door and rescue you. I'd see you, and you'd see me. I'd bring you to the _Star,_ where you'd meet all my friends. Kristoff. Frost. People I love. And I'd have everything I ever wanted-" she hesitated, and a self-conscious chuckle found its way past her blushing cheeks, "-I even dreamed you fell in love with Frost. Cheesy, huh? Your responsibility and his sense of fun—not that you weren't funny, 'cause you were, and not that he's irresponsible, 'cause he's become one of the most mature guys I know. Except for—I mean—you'd love how he is with kids. He's my best friend and you're my sister, so he'd be in the family. He'd make you laugh lots and—where was I going with this?"

Elsa giggled quietly, feeling a strange heat on her cheeks that felt as strong as the fierce red adorning Anna's. "I missed how much of a romantic you were."

Anna scoffed. "Was not!" She looked at Elsa, who quirked an eyebrow and wore a sly half-smile. "Alright, I was. Total romantic. Not even sorry," she said, chuckling.

But the smile slowly dropped.

"Then the Purge happened. Then I saw your face. Everyone else was wearing masks or helmets, but I saw _your face._ I _hurt_ you. My knives were at your _throat._ Looking back, I think it was that moment when I realised… my dream died right then."

Flashes filled Elsa's mind, of a blade at her neck, of hard asphalt under her back, and Anna's horrified countenance. A night she wished had never happened.

"And then less than two hours after that, everyone I ever knew and loved was gone. Just like that." She clicked her fingers. "People I'd say hi to when we passed each other. People whose kids I helped watch over. People who I taught how to shoot. My support network, my husband, my surrogate family… all gone. The life growing inside of me, and those four bozos over there," she inclined her head at the dais, "are all I have left of that family."

Her eyes fell. Something cold impacted against Elsa's wrist, and she looked up to find a glimmering trail down Anna's right cheek. It was then Elsa noticed similar hot lines burning their way to her own jaw. "You distanced yourself from me," she said in a raw, soft, cracked tremor, "to protect them."

Anna snorted with tangible bitterness. "Shyeah. How fucked up is that? I'm so scared of losing them, I feel I've gotta protect my family _from_ my family." She sniffed and released a hand to wipe away another tear. "I can't stop thinking about what would have happened if I never stopped you in time."

Elsa squeezed her hand and leaned closer. "But you have nothing to fear from us. We would _never_ allow harm to come to you."

Anna's eyebrows bounced once. "Yeah, but two weeks ago you were willing to kill my best friend, and the people you worked for won't rest until I, and all of my kind, are laid low in a grave just because we are what we are."

It was on the tip of Elsa's tongue to confess her abnormality, to make her see she too was in Unity's firing line simply for being cursed… but fear halted her tongue. Fear of herself. Fear of what the Ghosts, what Anna would say. Nothing should spoil their moment together.

Anna's gaze moved from the back of the pew to rest wholly on Elsa's eyes, blinking over and over to stem the tears. "And here we are. I wish we didn't meet again on opposite sides of the battleline. I wish Kristoff wasn't dead, and I wish I could just let the young Anna in me, who's still crying out for you, have what she wants. But I can't right now. I'm not ready. This is my reality, and my reality is that I feel like I'm being torn apart by the young Anna who just wants to fall into your arms; the Ghost trained to perceive, isolate and neutralise threats and right now sees _you_ as a threat; the grieving Anna that looks at you and sees the deaths of her friends; and the Anna that just wants her dream back. I guess-"

Her mouth slammed shut as she looked down, and Elsa felt her hands undergo one of the tightest squeezes she ever felt. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… I need time. I need to heal, process, to _not_ be so confused… 'cause right now, I just feel… cold. And you deserve better."

In spite of the tears slowly slipping down her cheeks, of the sore lump in her throat, of the way her heart beat with a dull ache, Elsa curled a small smile. "I understand," she murmured, "and I'll be here when you're ready. Sisters forever-" she leaned toward her, "-remember?"

Anna curled her own smile though her eyes edged it with sadness and regret. "Sisters forever."

All Elsa wanted in that moment was to hug her. To be hugged _by_ her. To make her understand that she would never harm her or her friends - but Anna was right. She would give her all the time she needed, and wait for the day they could reunite properly.

Maybe it was the same for the Ghosts, too. They needed time.

* * *

_Location: Ghost safe house ten miles northeast of Des Moines, three miles east of Perdition._

 

_Date: December 8th, 2073_

 

_Time: 12:15_

 

It was official: Elsa was _not_ leaving the shower. No, she would live in her little cubicle of heaven. The world could turn to ash, cities could rise and fall, but as long as the hot water kept pumping? She didn't care.

Being jostled about by a now-destroyed _Hela,_ not to mention being tied to a chair for several hours and _then_ spending the following few days sat in a jeep and laid on a hard, ancient church pew had left her body in a state of extreme stiffness, and full of aches and pains she never knew she could get. Aches and pains kissed away by the hot water raining down, leaving only relaxation and pleasure in its wake. It amazed her once upon a time the punishment the human body could take, but one hot shower and she felt something she hadn't felt in a long, long time: a new woman.

Closing her eyes, she turned her back to the shower head, and moaned with a quiet giggle at the sensation of tiny little massage artists chasing away the tautness of her muscles, whilst returning the soap to its little ledge attached to the white tiled wall. It had been the third time she cleaned herself with it.

Still, much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't spend all day under the soothing stream. Everyone else was probably clean, dressed, and waiting for her - there were only so many times she could use an extra go-over with the soap as a prepared excuse to stay in. Reaching out to twist the shower tap closed, she leaned to the right and wrung the water from her hair whilst making a mental note to thank Anna for spending half an hour heating the outside water tank with her bare hands. It had taken them a good few hours, but between her sister and Frost they had cleaned out the tank of stagnant, filthy water so Frost could fill it with snow that Anna could melt and heat with her powers.

Wringing the last of the water from her platinum blonde locks as the tap-tapping of water serenaded her ears, she leaned forward and wrapped them up in one of the white towels Frost had set aside for her, hanging from the rack by the shower - it constantly amazed her how well-stocked their safe houses seemed to be, though it was logical they would have spare sets of clothes, towels, IDs, everything they'd need to disappear and hide. Sure, the towels were decades old and not at their prime, but the one curled around her hair was perfectly adequate for its intended purpose.

Having spent a further ten minutes drying the rest of her body with another white, slightly coarse towel that did a pretty good job of exfoliation, she wrapped it around her body and tucked it in under her arms before walking out of the dimly lit bathroom into the equally dim bedroom.

Night Fury had done a decent job of tidying and cleaning the rooms, and to her surprise Frost had let her and her team pitch in too. Yet despite the efforts of six people hard at work, Elsa's opinion was that decades of neglect had left the house's interior in dire need of a good top-to-bottom hygiene and sanitation program by a legion of cleaning droids. The difference between her family home and her current residence couldn't be more apparent.

The bedroom's blinds were in a state of half-closed-half-open, so while dust particles illuminated by the beams of morning sunlight danced like fairies in the upper half of the room, the lower half was obscured by a blanket of shadow. Faded, light blue wallpaper covered the walls, and every step Elsa took toward the bed was heralded by a mildly disconcerting creak. A light musty scent hung in the air, undoubtedly from the bedsheets yet to be washed and dried, despite the opening of windows to eradicate it.

As she approached the bed and stood to its side, one hand clutching the towel securely around her - anyone could just walk in - her eyes danced over the clothing Frost had given to her before she took her shower, folded neatly on the bed. With her free hand, she picked up an ice blue hooded sweater, which with a faint smile she noted was not unlike the one _he_ wore in New Burgess. Though the cotton was still in adequate shape, it had lost its softness and her thumb told stories of prolonged use in the way the fabric bobbled under her touch. As she rubbed the material between her fingers, her mind went back to the pseudo-group meeting they all had in the hour before Elsa got her chance to shower, and how she found herself hanging on his every word.

" _Pitch once told me that before the Third War, people would spend their lives trying to be special snowflakes and stand out. That's not gonna fly here. You stand out, you're a walking target. So here's a crash course."_

It was odd. She expected her attention would be solely focused on him, yet it seemed to go beyond that. Not once did her eyes leave his, and she could still recall his words with perfect clarity. Cadence, tone, contraction. She could swear that, though his gaze travelled from ex-Valkyrie to ex-Valkyrie, his eyes lingered on her the most - and her heart skipped a beat every time. She scoffed and tossed the hooded sweater back onto the bed with faint irritation.

He was talking about what they needed to do to survive the next few days. Of _course_ she was wholly focused on him, she rationalised. That was kind of the _point._

Wasn't it?

" _Rule one: Dress to blend in. We're going into a settlement; that means old shabby clothes you wouldn't be seen dead in a week ago. Places like Perdition are usually last in line for supply convoys, on account of being so far north, so you're gonna see clothes that have had way too many repairs 'cause people are just trying to make do."_

Frost wasn't kidding. The white T-shirt, and hooded sweater looked like they had seen better days, but the light grey pants looked like a mismatched assortment of patches in varying shades of ' _close enough'_ grey, with the original fabric making an appearance here and there. Eyes tracing over the clearly handmade stitches, Elsa's brow rose in an expression of faint incredulity and a hint of distaste; less than a week ago she was clad in fresh, clean, droid-stitched gym clothes specifically designed for her size and shape. What was laid on her bed was clothing in _best-guess-size,_ that had probably seen many owners over the decades, and the only item that looked in relatively decent condition was the spare underwear Anna gave her. More than that; how would a man know how to dress a woman?

She scoffed at herself and administered unto her mind a brutal scolding for being so ungrateful. Pragmatism won the day over independence, and if she wanted to make it through Perdition - or, hopefully, any further settlements - without ringing alarm bells, she knew she had to defer to his experience. "Grow up, Elsa," she muttered, and let the towel covering her modesty fall to the floor. Anxious to be covered in case anyone burst in, she quickly slipped the grey briefs over her hips before putting on the red bra with even greater haste, her eyes constantly flicking to the door. Then came the grey pants, which to her relief did _not_ fall apart when she struggled to get them over her hips. Were these Frost's pants, or what?

Then the T-shirt was thrown on with the collar struggling to fit over her hair towel, requiring a few rough jerks. Satisfied she would not be caught in an indecent state, she picked up the hooded sweater with both hands and pulled it up over her body, which is when she caught a familiar scent.

It couldn't be.

With far less haste, she slowly pulled the sweater down over her chest, frowning as her sense of smell lit up memories like Upper City lights at night, and pinched some of the fabric under her nose. The scent was fresh, clean, like the crisp breath of a snowy morning. It was the smell of winter, and she was instantly taken back to an apartment, an alleyway, and a barn.

Everywhere Frost was.

She smiled widely to herself, feeling her cheeks flush with a faint pink. In his own way, he was taking care of her - and she had nothing to fear.

" _Rule two: anything that Joe Public notices about you, you can bet that Unity will notice, too. So anything recognisable needs to be hidden, or changed so people will glance instead of stare. Hats. Hoods. Headscarves. You have to be forgettable, so hide what makes you memorable."_

" _That means hairstyles. Sorry, Merida."_

She chuckled to herself as she unwrapped the towel from her hair and gave her locks one final squeeze and rub with it. Merida's instant reaction was something like, " _what, d'ye expect me ta shave it?"_ to which Frost's response was, " _Just put it in a ponytail, or something. Jeez, is she always so dramatic?"_

Astrid had then muttered, " _You have no idea,"_ which earned her a thump in the arm.

She went to the oval free-standing less-than-clear mirror, framed by wood crying out for a good varnish, stood next to the door-less, ancient-looking oak wardrobe, and immediately set about habitually separating and styling her hair whilst she pondered the day ahead. Platinum blonde, slightly damp strands weaved in and out of her fingers whilst she stared blankly at her reflection, lost in thought. Sure, what they were about to learn was important to their survival, and going on the run presented them with all sorts of lifestyle changes and difficulties, but she couldn't deny there was a noticeable element of excitement buzzing in her body. The same old routine day-in-day-out was safe and predictable, and something she had absolute control over… yet being in a situation where routine went out of the window? It was scary, but also _invigorating._ Mischievously so.

She would have loved for it to be Anna who taught her the skills, but after their talk she couldn't deny her sister's need for space. Neither of them would be focused. On the other hand, working with Frost yielded a strange sense of anticipation.

So lost was she in thoughts of learning under him and of the day ahead, she was just putting the finishing touches to her military braided hair when she remembered - Unity would recognise that style. All it would take would be a single snapshot, and the quintessential Valkyrie Leader Elsa Snowfield Hairstyle would be her undoing. She rebuked herself for losing focus.

What other style could she use? Ponytail would be the simplest, but she was loathed to undo the entirety of her hair just for that. Maybe a bun? No, still too formal. Perdition was described as a decidedly _in_ formal settlement, so a bun would stand out. Pigtails?

_Good grief, no. Your ex-boyfriend had a thing for pigtails._

Her lips parted, and she frowned as an idea took hold - and the words of her sister floated in her mind like a pleasant wave of nostalgia.

_I have this memory of you, the night before your graduation._

She smiled to herself, rapidly leaned down, and undid the bun before straightening up. Bereft of their anchor, her bangs fell untidily across her face, tickling her nose and cheeks with their soft ends. Her smile grew wider as she swept them back across her scalp with both hands, and her left hand then reached to the back of her head to draw her thick French braid over her left shoulder. She regarded herself in the mirror, clad in hand-me-down civilian clothes, wearing her favourite hairstyle.

If she was supposed to look perfect as a Valkyrie…

_Then that perfect girl is gone._

There was no right, no wrong. There were no rules for her anymore. She was free.

And did it feel good.

" _Rule three: leave the accessories at home. No-one wears jewelry or fancy handbags or whatever in Perdition, 'cause they've mostly been traded for credits, and the ones in the scavenger stores are probably more expensive than a Hela. So don't wear any."_

That part was easy enough - Elsa hardly wore jewelry, and her wrist-com bracelet had undoubtedly been confiscated by the Ghosts or left inside the _Valhalla_ when they blew her up. That particular development still aroused a mild irritation - it should have been her call to destroy their ship, not Frost's.

There was one item - and so used was she to feeling it in her pocket, its absence sent a flash of fear up her spine that spread throughout her chest, tightening it. With a gasp, she frantically patted the pockets of her pants, and then her hoody, before whirling around to the bed.

"No, no-no-no," she said, stammering, "where are you…"

Her eyes darted over every inch of the blanket where she _thought_ she discarded her Valkyrie fatigues - it felt like her vest had to be peeled off, much to her disgust. "Don't do this to me, not yet," she hissed, feeling the panic build and build, clenching her heart. "I'm not ready yet…"

She saw them, dangling off the edge of the bed. Her black pants, obscured by the shadowed half of the room and her own hysteria. She inelegantly lurched toward the bed with a relieved sigh, but when she yanked them up to search their pockets, a silver object tumbled out and clattered to the floor. "Shit!" she hissed, scrambling to the floor to pick it up.

Her fingers gained purchase around her silver pill case, and she slowly rose to her feet. Her upper body rose and fell with quick, deep, and calming breaths as she clutched it to her chest. She hadn't panicked like that in a _long_ time, not even during the most terrifying of battles. Not since that night. Satisfied her heart wasn't about to burst out of her chest, her eyes slowly rose to look at herself in the mirror - perhaps to admonish herself for losing her cool so easily.

Her reflection stole her breath.

Sunlight bathed her hair, so that rather than a collection of over a hundred thousand strands weaved into a braid, it looked like thin rivers of liquid gold - but it wasn't the light that had her struck dumbfounded. It was the shadow cast across the lower half of her face from halfway down her nose, a shadow so opaque she couldn't make out her own lips. She moved closer to the mirror, her eyes not moving an inch - the shadow still clung to her face as though it was meant to be there. Her heart pulsed with curiosity and an unfamiliar sensation that felt like the pleasure of fantasy mixed in with longing, and then a faint sense of disappointment made itself known when she touched her mouth and felt nothing but her lips under her fingertips.

She closed her eyes with an exasperated frown and gently shook her head - why was she expecting to feel mask fabric? The two teams had only been together for four days, and that was barely enough to be defined as _acquaintances_ if they were merely strangers, not two groups of people trying to hurt each other two weeks ago. What was she thinking, that the Ghosts would suddenly forget three years of fear and loss in the space of less than a week?

_Forgive and forget is a naïve sentiment, Snow Queen. They may forgive, but are you honestly stupid enough to think they'll forget?_

She emitted a quiet grunt and dismissed the notion as the whimsical fantasies of an excitable mind. The day ahead was far too important for her to get lost in dreams of the future - they could remain nothing more than dreams if things went wrong. Shoving the pill case into the right pocket of her pants - then pulling it out of the tight space with great difficulty and sliding it into the other pocket due to the first one having a whacking great hole in it - Elsa took a moment to check she was presentable and tucked in, making sure to fish the braid out from its hiding place under the back of the sweater and rest it upon her shoulder. It was certainly a new look, that was for sure.

She pulled out her socks and boots from under the bed, quickly slipped her feet into them, and then left the bedroom with a mild degree of haste. Closing the door behind her, she went to the house's living room, a place equally as shabby as the room she just left. Ugly, once-white, floral wallpaper adorned the walls, some parts peeling off and dangling over the floor while others were stripped off in jagged triangles. Under her boots lay a well-trodden, frayed beige carpet that looked like a tank had rolled over it and left patches of mildew behind. Her eyes went to the moth-eaten, faded green couch - it actually looked like a creature had taken chunks out of the foam upholstery - where Rapunzel and Merida chatted animatedly to each other. Sat cross-legged on the couch facing the hall, Merida was the first to notice Elsa's arrival. She gave her a little wave and a half-grin, whilst from her kneeling position behind her, Rapunzel bounced her eyebrows with a _please-kill-me_ look as she tackled the red mess, weaving several strands of unruly curls into a tight braid.

Elsa gave them a shy wave before her attention was attracted to activity in the kitchen at her left, separated from the living room by a high breakfast bar. Anna and Frost were hunched over a paint-scratched white kitchen table studying a large piece of paper, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones whilst pointing to several spots on the beige-coloured sheet. It didn't take a genius to assume it was a map, but Elsa couldn't deny her curiosity, especially when Frost's lips suddenly cracked into a mischievous grin as he passed something Elsa couldn't quite see into Anna's waiting hands - and she too cracked an alarmingly impish smirk as they returned to the map.

She had been staring too long. Just as she realised her mistake and looked away, Frost looked up just in time to catch her eye - Anna was still buried in planning - and her breath hitched as he regarded her with an undefinable expression. The seconds passed with the two pairs of eyes locked into each other, uncomfortably long seconds that heated her cheeks half a degree the longer he stared. Feeling the need to at least do _something,_ she pocketed one hand whilst drawing a strand of hair behind her ear with the other, and offered him a small smile.

His response was an approving nod, and the left side of his lips curled up just enough to be perceptible before returning his attention to the map.

"That's it. I give up. Your hair is more of a pain in the ass than you are."

Elsa looked back just in time for Rapunzel to throw her hands in the air amid an exasperated huff of defeat. The brunette's hands flopped back down, and she shook her head in disbelief. "I swear - your hair is actually trying to _fight_ me."

Merida snickered out loud, and twisted round just as Rapunzel reached behind her for something. "Here," she said as she passed her a black ribbon, "ponytail it. I'm done."

"Admitting defeat already, Rapunzel?" Smirking, Elsa sat down in the space in front of Merida, then immediately shuffled to the edge when she nearly fell through the cushion. "It's not like you."

Rapunzel gave her a challenging look and pointed to the curly disaster. "Hey, if you wanna try, she's all yours."

Laughing, Elsa held up her hands in surrender. "I'm fine, thank you. I know an unwinnable battle when I see one."

"Oh, it's winnable," Merida said as she commenced her two-handed war by sweeping her hair into a ponytail. "Ye've just gotta treat it right."

"A steady diet of vinegar, lemon juice and ' _come at me, bro'_ aggression?"

Rapunzel yelped as Merida jabbed her with her elbow. "Ha-ha. I _can_ be a lady, ye know."

"Sure. If you say so."

Giggling to herself, Elsa tore her eyes away from the mild argument to glance over the room, pausing a moment to ponder the use of the strange box in the corner with a reflective sheet over it, and noticed a certain absence. "Where's Astrid?"

"She-" Merida yanked the ribbon into a tight knot, "-left with Night Fury about half an hour ago. Something about a game of chess."

Elsa raised an eyebrow. "Chess?"

"I know." Rapunzel grimaced. "You should have seen her face."

"As fer Pitch, he hasn't come back yet," Merida added.

Elsa regarded her with curiosity. "I didn't ask about Pitch."

"Meh," Merida shrugged. "Figured it was important."

"To who-"

There was the sound of a heavy creak from the veranda outside. The living room instantly snapped to silence, with five heads whipping to face the front door. Elsa's breath caught as her heart shot into her throat, and her legs tensed in preparation to intercept. She quickly looked at Frost and Anna, who watched the door with silent, taut vigilance, their right hands both reaching toward something hidden in the backs of their pants. For what felt like an eternity, nobody dared to move.

_Knock. Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock._

"Dammit," Frost said, sighing as he rounded the table, strode to the door and yanked it open.

Pitch Black swept into the room, his head obscured by a wide hood and his long leather trench coat trailing elegantly behind him like a sprawling cloak. "Dramatic pauses are a good way to get yourself shot in the face, dude."

Pitch drew his hood back as he turned to him. Elsa took a small gasp of breath at the sight; rather than a grim shade of grey, his skin was an attempt at a pale Caucasian colour. It was a fair _attempt,_ but the way it had been applied meant it wouldn't hold up to even four seconds of scrutiny. "That's actually kinda freaky," Rapunzel murmured. Elsa could only nod in disbelief.

"Then it's fortunate you remembered the entry sequence," Pitch said, his voice edged with condescension.

"We only agreed it a few hours ago," Frost said. Pitch turned to move into the kitchen. "And your makeup needs work."

Without missing a beat, as he pulled off the trench coat and cast it over one of the kitchen chairs, "So does your face."

The sound of running water reached Elsa's ears along with well-concealed chuckling from Merida, stirring her out of her mild bewilderment. She glanced over to the source, where, stood with his back to her, Pitch was busy washing his face in the kitchen sink. Her eyes moved over to Frost, who took his gaze to the sky and shook his head. The lightest, uncertain titter escaped her lips.

Frost looked at her. "What?"

"Is he always like this?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

His lips quirked sideways as one hand sat on his hip while the other scratched behind his head. "No, no… he's actually in a good mood," he said amid quiet nervous laughter, eyes resting in an unfocused manner on the floor.

At least, they _were_ unfocused, up until he looked back up to her, his eyes resting on the braid. The hand that had been scratching at the nape of his neck, gestured gently at it. "You should keep your hair like that. It suits you."

Elsa's cheeks joined her ears in the sporting of a light pink, and her left hand instinctively went up to clutch at her braid. Rendered temporarily speechless _,_ she managed to force out in a quiet voice, "Oh… thank you..."

Frost shrugged. "No problem." He pocketed his hands in his hooded sweater and joined Anna and Pitch over the map. "So how'd it go?"

"I found them," Pitch said quietly as he dabbed his face with a towel as grey as his face. "I had to give them some credits, but they'll be ready when the time comes."

"They know what they've gotta do?" Anna asked.

Whoever _they_ were and whatever they had to do, were questions that immediately went out the window as soon as Elsa glanced at Merida and Rapunzel. Both women wore an identical half-smirk, staring at her with amused, teasing eyes.

"What?"

Rapunzel immediately put on her best impression of ' _innocent schoolgirl'_ as she could, whilst a snickering Merida pulled a pair of gloves from the pocket of her zipped black hooded sweater. "Nothing…" she sang, before coughing, " _flirting!"_

Elsa narrowed her eyes. "I don't flirt," she said, throwing her an imperious gaze.

Merida gestured at her with the gloves, smirking. "Now that-" she waggled the garments, just before a wave of dawning comprehension crossed her faintly freckled countenance, "-I can totally buy."

Elsa stared at her, wearing a resentful scowl. "Hey! I _can_ flirt, I merely choose _not_ to-"

"Sure," Merida said in a flat tone, her face a spectacular deadpan.

"-and, frankly, my skill in flirting is none of your business-"

"Of course."

Rapunzel too adopted the same blank expression, gently waggling her head with every syllable. Elsa's irritable streak widened and widened at the knowledge that they were obvious humouring her, nodding with no greater enthusiasm than a sloth. She emitted an unladylike growl, snatched the gloves from Merida's hand and brandished them like a threatening weapon. "Now, listen here you presumptuous little-"

Frost's voice rang out in the room, instantly silencing them. "We move out in ten minutes," he said loudly. His eyes moved to meet Elsa's gaze, and a faint smirk appeared on his lips. "Unless the lady doth prefer to protest too much."

Her cheeks and ears burned a richer pink. Ignoring the giggles of her friends, she pursed her lips and scowled at him, much to his amusement.

Pulling on his trench coat, Pitch sighed on the way to the rectangular mirror hanging on the wall, producing a small tube of something light peach in colour from its pocket. "I'm surrounded by children," he said before a rather dramatic groan, and stood to inspect himself in the mirror before unscrewing the cap from the tube. Elsa watched him squeeze a small dollop onto his hands and slap it onto his face, her curiosity morphing into lip-curled incredulity. What was he trying to do, lay asphalt?

"The hell're ye doin'?" Merida said, gaping. A quick glance at her friend revealed much the same expression of disbelief, and dare she think it, horror.

Pitch's hand paused just enough for him to speak, yet Elsa found it hard to ignore the patch of light peach on his right cheek as he glowered at Merida's reflection. "Applying a disguise, obviously." He gave a sigh that came off as patronising and continued his haphazard work. "I can explain my eyes as cybernetic implants, but I can't pass for a Normal as easily as my comrades - or any of you, for that matter."

"Aye, I get that, but - man alive, ye're doin' it all wrong! What're you tryin' ta do, lay a road?"

Pitch started on his chin, paying her no heed. Elsa forced herself to tear her eyes away - it was almost _painful_ to watch. "I think I know how to do this," he said in a low growl.

Silence fell, with one side bereft of anything to say as they watched his efforts like car crash holo-vision, and the other preferring them to shut up. Merida was never one for that kind of silence, and Elsa could practically _feel_ the electricity of her frustration arc towards her. She could _definitely_ feel the way the couch shifted and dipped under her as the redhead rocked back and forth, clearly battling within herself as whether to get up or stay sat.

Until the silence broke.

"Och! I cannae take it any longer!" she cried, almost in agony. "C'mere, ye daft bastard!"

There was a whoosh of air as Merida swept past Elsa, striding toward him with determination and purpose. Pitch, wearing a frown, turned just in time for Merida to snatch the tube from his hands and hold it behind her well out of his reach. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"Ye're doin' it all wrong, laddie." Elsa's mouth dropped at the brazen way in which, despite him towering over her five-four height, she held his head by the chin and inspected his handiwork with a face of pained incredulity. "Ach, this'll never do. This is goin' on skin, not fuckin' cake sponge!"

She immediately began to spread what he'd already applied, ranting under her breath. "I mean, honestly - if this is what ye did in tha past, I'm gobsmacked ye managed ta stay undetected. Ye seriously need a female influence in yer life."

Elsa's gaze moved around the occupants of the room, all of whom were in the midst of watching the scene unfold with stunned eyes. Frost and Anna wore jaw-dropped expressions of ' _what-the-fuck'_ while Rapunzel was busy snickering under her breath like a particularly mischievous imp. Pitch, whose newly peach cheeks were undoubtedly doing a spectacular job of hiding a piqued crimson hue, tried to snatch for the tube. Only, Merida was too fast.

"Give it back," he hissed. Merida vigorously shook her head, continuing on with her task, her rhythm unbroken.

"No way. Laddie, I can make it so a lass'll snog ye and wouldn't know yer an abnormal." Pitch was obviously unconvinced as he made a further attempt on the tube. Merida saw it coming a mile off, and it broke her stride much to her visible, glaring annoyance. "D'ye want me ta do it properly, or not?"

Elsa watched him glower down into Merida's eyes for an uncomfortably long time and wondered if it was worth getting ready to tackle him to the ground before he could even _think_ of lashing out. "Fine," he said, huffing.

"Good boy," she said, earning a pair of snorted sniggers from the kitchen, and proceeded to adeptly apply the cream to the spaces under his eyes. "Anyone who comes out with me better look good, and not half-ass it. It's my safety on tha line too, ye know."

Rapt was the room, watching Merida use her fingers with great skill to both rectify Pitch's hideous errors and show him how it was done. From his eyelids to his neck, his ears to his fingers, every visible patch of grey skin was eventually covered with the light peach foundation. To everyone's surprise, Pitch responded to her directions to ' _turn left', 'turn right', 'close yer eyes'_ immediately and without incident.

Elsa reckoned a battalion of Odin tanks could have driven through the house, and no-one would have cared.

"Done!" Merida declared with audible pride and stood back to admire her handiwork. She gestured to the mirror. "What d'ye think?"

Pitch turned to face his reflection, and took a step back in shock. "It's… you...," he whispered, and leaned in for a closer look, turning his face in every direction, his expression one of amazed shock. "I look… human…"

Elsa tilted her head - he sounded almost _wistful._ Did he regret becoming who he was?

"I… never…" he trailed off, and looked at the proudly smiling Merida. "I didn't peg you to be so adept with makeup."

Merida scoffed, her smile becoming a smug smirk as she screwed the cap back onto the tube. "Just 'cause I'm tough as nails, laddie, doesnae mean I cannae be feminine. Too many women forget we can be both warriors-" she handed the tube back to him, "- _and_ princesses."

"Amen to that," Anna cheered from the kitchen.

Pitch looked down at the offered object, and then back up to her, his expression Elsa couldn't work out. Gratitude? Surprise? _Respect?_ For a long few seconds, he gazed at her, until-

"We should go," he said abruptly. Drawing his hood above his head, he swiveled with such speed his trench coat swirled with the momentum and brushed against Merida's faded brown denim-covered legs, and swept through the living room and out of the front door. Merida stared after him in bewilderment, the tube still in the air as though it was being returned to an invisible being.

"Right. We should go. Okay. Weirdo," she said in a voice of staccato disbelief. "Just like that, he's scooting." She sighed in frustration as she threw her free hand into the air with enough force that it slapped against her thigh on the return journey. Pocketing the tube, she grumbled under her breath and moved behind the couch as she went to the door. "See ye later, folks."

"Wait!" Elsa called out, and then held the gloves high in the air. "You forgot these."

Merida cracked a half-smirk and waved them off. "Don't need 'em, lass. I hate gloves. Giving someone tha middle finger ain't the same if ye've got gloves on."

A strange need, closer to a compulsion filled Elsa's heart. "May I use these?" she asked, lowering her hand.

Shrugging, Merida said with a lackadaisical air, "Knock yerself out," and left the house.

Elsa gazed down at the black leather gloves in her hand, feeling the smooth but well-used material under her fingertips as she pinched them together. They could help. They could conceal. With them, she could still have a measure of control.

"Hell of a character you've got there, Snow Queen."

Elsa snapped from her thoughts with a start; the use of her callsign plus the _only_ masculine voice in the house was a patronisingly obvious clue as to who it could be. She looked up into the eyes of Frost, who had left the kitchen to stand a couple of feet away from the back of the couch, his arms folded across his navy-blue hoodie-covered chest. Was that her imagination, or was there a thin layer of frost on his shoulders?

"Indeed," she said with faint breathlessness, "you have no idea."

Frost made a noncommittal hum, and visibly jutted out his jaw to play with the inside of his lip.

"So what happens now?" she asked, hoping to break the pregnant silence before it had a chance to descend.

"You and I are leaving," he answered.

Elsa blinked, and took an awkward few seconds to assimilate his meaning. "Now. Okay." She quickly rose to her feet and pocketed the gloves, before glancing at her sister. "What about Anna and Rapunzel?" she asked out of curiosity, and unsubtle concern.

"They'll be setting off in about twenty minutes."

Rapunzel shifted in her seat, and looked between Frost and Anna. "Why aren't we all going together?"

"Because if the shit hits the fan before you and I get there," Anna said to Rapunzel as she moved to stand by Frost, "then you and I will have a twenty minute head start to get away from here before Unity comes looking for us."

Elsa's eyes moved to rest on Frost's, greater understanding washing over her face. "You're protecting them," she said quietly, a small smile appearing on her lips.

Frost blinked, and both ends of his lips twitched upwards for a split second. "That's always been the plan, Snow Queen."

"Trust me, I was against it-" Anna jabbed a yelping Frost in the ribs with her elbow, "-until he had to be a sensible pain-in-the-butt and remind me I'm supposed to be thinking of someone else."

Fighting the widening of her smile, Elsa looked away for a few moments to compose herself, and push aside the flicker of warmth in her heart. It wasn't the time for that. Her lips settling into a thin line - with a little more effort than she would have liked - her head rose to give him an expectant look.

"I'm ready when you are, Frost."

He gave her a single nod. "Good," he declared, clapping his hands together. "Let's go have some fun!"

Elsa was left wondering what else Frost defined as _fun,_ if it counted walking into a rough settlement where a wrong step could mean exposure and capture. Parachute-less skydiving, perhaps? A game of tag with Reapers? Chicken with a hover-train. That would be it.

Frost opened the front door wide with a clatter, and stood to the side. He looked at her with an uncharacteristically polite expression, and gestured to the open doorway. "Ladies first."

Tilting her head, Elsa circled the couch and went to the door, watching him with a curious frown. "I didn't expect chivalry from you, Frost," she said.

He gave her a look of mock offense. "Hey, I was raised by my mom to be a gentleman."

Elsa raised a single eyebrow, quirked her lips to the side, and gave him her best shot at unimpressed - which was remarkably easy. "Oh, so it's _not_ to let me go first so you can look at my ass," she deadpanned, before moving on to pass through the doorway regardless.

Out came the cocky voice as the door clattered closed behind her. "Well, that _is_ one of the perks."

Shaking her head in exasperation, Elsa both reprimanded herself for allowing the shy smile to curl her lips, and thanked her stars that he didn't see it before they set off for Perdition under the newly overcast sky, their feet scraping along a dusty path.

She couldn't do anything about the quiet giggle, however.


	42. Perdition I: Of Snow and Ice

" **Perdition I: Of Snow and Ice"**

Perdition was one of those places that stuck in your memory, and not for the right reasons. At first glance, it seemed like it was any other settlement, albeit three times the size. Supporting over a thousand souls, it had the usual amenities; the ever-present Archon Hall for civil meetings and public announcements; one elementary and one high school; a holo-theatre that hadn't held a new showing in months; a small clone garrison; a militia force and an entire section dedicated to housing, labelled the Habitation Quarter.

That was where the similarities ended for Elsa, because as soon as she had followed Frost through its wide and well-guarded gates, the first glance of Perdition revealed the first of many differences: a fifteen foot high wall, which she was immediately informed by Frost, surrounded the entire settlement. Six feet of worn, awkwardly laid and cemented brick serving as the foundation for a further six feet of reinforced corrugated metal panels, upon which a foot of barbed wire looped itself in and out of the top few inches of the panels, much like thread entwined in fabric. Clone and militia guards patrolled platforms on the inner side of the wall, vigilantly scanning the wintry green countryside for any sign of movement.

"Reaper attacks," Frost had said far too nonchalantly as they passed through the gate, mercifully without incident. "Three times a week, and twice on Sundays."

Elsa wasn't sure if the last part was him being flippant, or not.

It was the sign of things to come.

Perdition was, in many ways, a reflection of its Archon, the citizens it supported and the situation they lived in. During their journey toward several benches at the outskirts of the town centre, Elsa had found out that as the northernmost settlement, Perdition was a magnet for Reaper incursions seeking fresh meat, so rather than depend on Unity for defense and supplies, the citizens had learned over the decades to be self-sufficient. Stores in the town centre sold meat gathered by hunting parties, and fruit and vegetables grown in the Production Quarter, so the citizens didn't have to wait for supply convoys to replenish the food dispensers with biomatter so they could be fed.

Elsa had found that particular development as curious, and as they approached the bench situated at the opposite side of a beech tree, she had voiced as much. "I thought farming was disallowed by Unity?"

"It is," was Frost's reply. "The thing is, Perdition's got some strategic value. If Reapers are throwing themselves at its walls, then they're not moseying south to the other settlements as much. Because of that, Unity lets the Archon do pretty much what he wants."

"That's remarkably gracious of them."

Frost's response had begun with a blurt of cynical laughter. "Hah. More like the Archon knows that though he's got some breathing room, if Unity smells even a hint of sedition, or if it's hiding Alliance sympathisers or abnormals, they'll raze Perdition to the ground. That's why Archon Damocles rules this place with an iron fist."

Elsa immediately brought up the oddity of such a name, which was swiftly explained by Frost as a legend: in ancient times, King Dionysius I grew tired of the flattery of his courtier Damocles, so when invited to a banquet, Damocles was seated under a sword suspended by a single hair to remind him just how precarious his position was.

Which left Elsa silently pondering two things as they took their seats: one; how a sword could be suspended by a hair, and two; how the hell Frost knew that.

Frost's answer raised even more questions. "Meh. I paid attention to the cool stuff in Pitch's lessons."

At which point Elsa's brain had held up its hands, said, " _Welp, screw this,"_ and put aside the surprise revelations until later so she could focus on the task at hand - which was trickier than she anticipated, as she found herself faintly entranced by the annoyingly hypnotic quality to his voice.

Pointing to the bustling town centre ahead, where dozens of men, women and children milled about their daily business under the jovial calls of vendors hawking their wares, he said, "Our objective is to pass through the town centre, and out of the other side, without making anyone suspicious or setting off alarms."

"It sounds simple enough," she said, though she took care with her fingers to ensure her hood was in the right place.

Frost snorted quietly, and as she glanced at him in response, the left corner of his lips curled up in amusement. "You'd think that, but through there are cameras, regular militia patrols, and a few clone marches. Plenty of ways things can go sideways on us - and there's a bonus objective for extra credit."

Elsa shuffled in her seat, and pulled her hood further around her head. There was a difference between being aware of difficulty, and _comprehending_ it. "Which is?"

She followed his right index finger as it lazily pointed toward the Archon Hall in the distance, a big, circular, dirty grey building in dire need of repair. "Astrid and Night Fury are on the other side of the Hall, and have been for the last hour and a half, pretending to play chess. They've got the best seat in the house-" he gestured with a flat hand in four directions "-with clear line of sight on anyone who approaches. He's teaching her how to be situationally aware."

He turned his head just enough to give her a knowing look out of the corner of his eye, and the small curl of his lips turned into a playful smirk. "You and I are gonna sneak up on them."

He pulled out the other hand from the pocket of his sweater, and held it open in front of her. Sat in the palm of his hand was a tiny, milky-white, curved object. She looked down at it, lips parting in mild surprise. "Is that what I think it is?"

He gave her a funny look. "No, it's a three course meal. What do _you_ think?"

Completing the Trifecta of Exasperation with a roll of her eyes, gentle shake of her head and almost silent huff, she pinched the object from the palm of his hand, and then tilted her head so she could slip it into her right ear. "I _think_ it looks like you're trusting me with an earpiece."

Frost scoffed, something that stung her more than she would have thought. "Hardly. It's set to incoming transmissions only, for if you hear the phrase ' _winter is coming'."_

His smile falling, he finished the sentence so gravely, as if the prior humour and sarcasm had been sucked from his voice, that Elsa felt compelled to ask, "What will that mean?"

Frost's ice blue eyes remained on her, long enough for the tiniest of shivers to travel down her spine. "It means Unity made us. If one of my team says that, then we drop what we're doing and calmly walk away."

Elsa immediately looked away from him and stared at the dusty ground with glazed eyes, concern etched in the furrow of her brow. A million worst case scenarios jostled for first place in her mind's eye, a million ways their pseudo-mission could go wrong. She had never felt that kind of worry before, and wished she hadn't asked.

And then the relaxed quality returned to his voice as though it had never been away. Elsa felt the sharp edge of her nervousness fade away to a small but noticeable cloud in her chest, and though she wouldn't admit it, she was grateful. "But you don't need to worry about that. My team will take good care of yours."

"Of that," she said just loud enough for him to hear, "I have no doubt."

"Good." He nudged her lightly with his elbow. "Chill out, Snow Queen. It's only at nightfall people around here get antsy."

She sighed in disappointed frustration. "My name is Elsa. I really wish you would use it." She shot him a mildly stung glare. "You call my friends by their first name, but not me. Why?"

"Does it annoy you?"

"Yes."

"There's your answer."

She narrowed her eyes, and jutted her lower jaw out just enough for her irritation to be even more obvious in how her lips thinned into a razor-sharp line. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He smirked. "I live for the simple things."

Emitting a quiet growl under her breath, she closed her eyes to hide their roll, before opening them again. "Please tell me we're getting underway soon."

"In a minute." Frost pocketed his hands and leaned back into the bench, looking the epitome of relaxation. Elsa's breath hitched as his left arm brushed against her right, making her realise just how close together they had been sitting. "Lunch crowds start soon. We'll have a better chance of making Astrid fail her bonus objective then."

There was the initial guilt sprinkled in the knowledge that to succeed her test, Astrid had to fail hers, but it was swiftly pushed aside by an impish, mischievous thought derived from their exceptionally close proximity. Should she move any further to the right, she would be sat on his lap - a perfect opportunity to get him back.

She took a quick glance, and noted how his gaze was still focused at the street ahead. Smiling coyly, she made a small show of reaching under her hood to draw a strand of hair behind her right ear, and with as playful a voice as she could muster, purred, "You know, with how we're sat so close together, people might get the wrong idea."

Frost was unfazed. Indifferent, even. Disappointment rode with minor frustration at how his cheeks hadn't even taken a hint of red. "And what idea would that be?" he said in a lazy drawl.

Elsa kept her eyes on his face, watching for the slightest hint of a reaction. If he was going to annoy her, she was going to repay him in kind. "That you and I are romantically involved."

Without even looking away from the town centre, where more and more citizens were filling the streets, he said a perfect deadpan, "That's the point."

Elsa gasped sharply, her eyes widening to their limit. She leaned away from him, staring at him in shock while her lungs worked out how to exhale. Whatever frustration she had at her inability to elicit a reaction, vanished. Frost glanced at her, and did a small double-take.

"Ease up on the shock there, princess," he said, chuckling. "I don't have the relevant jewelry for _that_ kind of response."

She blinked over and over again, hoping that the action would in some way restart her brain like the turn of a key to ignite a hover-car. "S-sorry, it's just," she said, stammering whilst her cheeks flooded with a violent red, "you _want_ people to think we are together?"

Frost took one look at her, and cracked possibly the most amused smile she had ever seen whilst his body lightly jerked with suppressed laughter. "People are weird." He reached up to scratch at his cheek, and Elsa felt the faintest pride at the light pink under his fingers. "Nothing makes Joe Public avert his eyes faster than if he sees two people sharing a moment. He thinks he's intruding."

There was a sound of understanding from the throat of Elsa, who straightened up whilst slightly tilting her head back, as though the last puzzle piece had been placed enabling sense to be made. "I see," she said, placing far too much length and emphasis on ' _see',_ "so to ensure people won't look at us for too long, I must act the part of girlfriend?"

Frost gave her a funny look. "I wouldn't go _that_ far, but you're getting there."

The mischievous streak returned with a vengeance, and just as Frost's watchful gaze returned to the street, Elsa felt her lips curl into a wicked smirk. "Well, in _that_ case…"

Without warning, she scooted close enough to smell his wintry scent and looped her right arm around his left, and rested her head on his shoulder to finish. She heard an audible hitch of breath, and felt his body stiffen as though Merida had touched him with her powers. She looked up at his face with the most innocent expression she could muster, and cackled internally at the reaction she so desired to get: his cheeks and ears had flooded with a delightful crimson.

"How is this?" she asked in a sweet voice. Frost did about fifteen double takes before he answered.

His response was drier than the ground below them, barely increasing in tone. "You ever considered a career in holo-movies?"

Elsa looked back at the busy street, as she tittered with half-victory, half-amusement. "Anna suggested it once. Apparently, I have a voice for musicals."

"I bet." Frost exhaled a loud breath through his nose, abruptly yanked his arm out from her embrace, which roughly lifted her head from his shoulder, and shoved his hand back into the sweater pocket. She frowned deeply at him; though she couldn't deny the sensation of self-satisfaction nestling happily in her heart, the way Frost vehemently removed his arm as though her touch was anathema to him caused an odd prang of offense. Was she so repulsive, that he could not tolerate even the joking facade of romantic attraction?

Even while focusing on the crowd of citizens ahead as they complacently went about their lunchtime, his face was etched with severe discomfort. Stung, she pocketed her free hand and sighed whilst slightly hunching in on herself, taking her eyes elsewhere, trying to ignore the uncomfortable air that had descended between them. It was going to be a long day.

"Crowd's big enough," Frost said sharply. He stood to his feet, and Elsa felt the air around her rush to occupy the space left behind. "Class is in session. Let's go."

Elsa tensed, and wasted no time in rising from the bench, though it was without her customary grace and form. Her eyes went to the street, where people of varying sizes, shapes and colours moved to and fro, their clamours and chattering melting into a symphony of everyday life, and felt a rush of anxiety that did a grand job of helping her to put aside the discomfort of Frost's reaction, and the faint humming in her abdomen. She was about to be running one hell of a gauntlet.

She tugged down the bottom hem of her sweater and readjusted her hood for greater comfort and obscurity, and concealed her trepidation behind a blank expression. "I'm ready."

"Okay." Frost started off toward the street in a leisurely stroll, and gestured in that direction with his head. "First rule of going on the run: don't run. Walk. Keep at my pace, keep your eyes down like you're thinking about something, but don't bow your head. Nothing says ' _suspicious'_ like someone trying too hard, or moving too fast."

"Understood," Elsa responded in a voice came off shakier than she would have liked. She kept her eyes low, but it was a hard fight to keep from glancing between him and the street they were about to enter. Her hands began to tremble inside the sweater pocket, and her pace unconsciously quickened.

Frost seemed to sense her agitation. "Relax. If it helps, look at the movement of the crowd. What does it tell you?"

Elsa took a few seconds for her eyes to scrutinise the feet moving back and forth across the street, kicking up dust as steps were taken. She looked up at their upper bodies, watched as hands lazily gestured to stall fronts whilst faces animatedly mouthed indiscernible words to each other. Average daily life.

"That they are in no particular hurry to get anywhere. They are just browsing."

"Then that's what we'll do. Crowds are great for anonymity. Once you learn how to move like everyone else, you're invisible."

There were less than fifteen metres to go, until they reached the penumbra of the bustling street. Elsa looked up at their faces, and tried to focus on a wizened old woman with a hooked nose and wearing a headscarf as she crossed the street, from one stall to the other. For a few seconds it was easy to keep track of her despite people passing her, especially with such a distinguishable facial feature, but once she walked behind an appallingly shabbily clothed family of four whose children were busy choosing between a bushel of apples and a bunch of bananas, Elsa lost sight of her. Was it _that_ easy?

Unity had facial recognition programs, as she well knew, but still…

"I can do this," she said to herself, hoping to light the fire of confidence and usher away the anxiety. The reality that the wrong move at the wrong time could mean disaster had not left her mind.

Yet, validation came from the unlikeliest of sources. "Yeah, you can," Frost said with his usual relaxed timbre, but edged with conviction. She looked up at him in surprise, prompting him to elaborate on his statement. "If you put even half of the determination you had when hunting me into this, you're gonna nail it."

She blinked at him for a few seconds as the bustling crowd mindlessly enveloped them in its perpetually-morphing anonymity, before a voice in her mind reminded her of the task at hand and to look ahead.

As her eyes took in the details of those around her while they walked, she was struck with just how accurate Frost's description of the state of Perdition's clothing situation, and just how pitiful it was. She lost count of all the patchy woolen shawls, faded-to-grey headscarves, badly scuffed pants and shoes held together solely by the sheer will of their wearer, and couldn't help but draw a stark mental comparison between that and the uniformly perfection of Upper Level couture. Some children wore clothes in danger of falling apart… but they seemed _happier,_ laughing with glee as they ran, weaving their little bodies around the mass of grown-ups. She glanced up at Frost, and caught him chuckling as he watched them play.

"I have a question."

Frost's answer was a remarkably concise, "Shoot," as he began to slowly steer her in a long curve to the left sidewalk.

"At the end of this, will I be debriefed?"

"I hope that's not a euphemism."

She shot him a withering look. "Don't be vulgar. I meant, will there be a performance report?"

There was dusty scraping sound when Frost stumbled, as though he froze in step but his training forced him on. He looked at her, wearing an expression of incredulity as though she had just told him her prior display of romantic behaviour was wholly genuine, and said, "Performance report? You want one of those?"

"Well… yes." Elsa quirked an eyebrow. "It would be prudent to be aware of my strengths, and to be aware of areas that need improvement." She gave him a bemused look. "You know, the things a performance report entails?"

"Yeah, but… paperwork?" Frost looked haunted at the prospect. "I have to do hard work? _Deadlines?_ "

Elsa sighed, shaking her head. "Forget I said anything." It was clear he either hadn't been in the position where such reports were necessary, or if he was, then it was something he avoided.

"Gladly," he said with annoying relief. "Security camera, ten metres ahead two o'clock high. What's your first move?"

She was glad he hadn't said anything about not looking, as her eyes immediately and involuntarily snapped to the specified direction. Fixed to the wall above a credit dispensary was a thin arm, upon which a black, spherical object was attached. The lack of a visible red light meant the camera was facing away from them. They had a chance.

"I would cross the street to walk under it, so we are not seen," she answered.

"Well, we could do that-" He subtly pointed to a vegetables store, where healthy looking carrots, potatoes, parsnips and onions were stacked on sloping racks out front. "-or we could go there."

Frowning in curiosity, Elsa followed him to the storefront. He stopped in front of the carrots, and began inspecting a few of them as though selecting the best shape, size and quality, and it could have been her ears playing tricks on her, but she swore she heard him counting down under his breath.

"Should we not-"

"Sixteen." Frost gestured toward her with a vivid orange carrot that had a severely askew tip. "Make like you're interested in those potatoes. Twelve. Soon as I say, start moving. Ten."

Bewildered by his cryptic instruction punctuated by numerical recitation, Elsa nonetheless looked down at the assortment of potatoes in front of her. Some were covered in a thin layer of dried earth, others bore gashes and missing chunks, but… they were potatoes.

Frost put the instructional carrot back with its brethren. "Let's go."

Elsa reacted with a start, and took a long stride to catch up to his side. Her head automatically and slowly turned to look over her shoulder.

"Don't."

The sharpness of Frost's order ixnayed her curiosity, and her head swiveled back. "Security cameras take fifteen seconds to rotate, and they stay still for another three seconds."

Elsa glanced up at him. "That's why you were counting down."

Frost nodded, and then sharply jerked his head to the side, causing his neck to emit a soft click. Elsa's face twisted into a pained cringe, and a shudder tore its way through her body. Oh, how she hated that habit. Chuckling, Frost waited until an elderly couple had passed by before speaking again.

"When that camera was turning, all it saw were the backs of two people with their hoods up as they browsed some nice carrots for dinner. When it fully turned, those people were at the edge of its vision."

Elsa smiled in understanding. "So all we needed to do was walk away."

"Bingo. Protip, though, don't do it near a reflective surface. Cameras can still pick up your reflection."

"What should I do then? What if the camera is about to look right at me?"

Frost shrugged. "Well, before you pass your reflection, you could stop someone so your back is to the camera and ask for directions to somewhere. If there's no-one around, you could stop and tie your shoelaces. Wait until it's safe, then get moving."

Elsa nodded quickly, and committed the tips to memory. It amazed her how all those little things, those small daily behaviours added up to an effective evasion strategy. Casual walking. Reading and mimicking the people around her. No wonder he was able to get in and out of New Burgess, twice, without alerting Unity.

"We're halfway through," he said with a buoyant tone. Elsa felt a swell of optimism in her heart, one that remained even as they walked in silence. Frost pointed out another security camera fifteen metres ahead, and they immediately but lazily diverted to windowless scavenger stall.

"Fifteen. So, I noticed Anna wasn't giving you the stink-eye today."

Elsa smiled, remembering the talk they had in the church. The beginnings of reconnection. "Ten. Yes, we talked about things last night. I think we understand each other better than we did."

"Five." Frost did a small hum as he picked up a small marble at a price tag of one credit. "Good, 'cause I was gonna knock your heads together. Let's go."

He put the marble back, and as they swung away from the stall, much to the disappointment of the vendor, Elsa shot him a glare. "Why do you care about my relationship with my sister?"

Frost's head turned just enough to regard her with a mildly reprimanding look. "I care about Anna. I was just hoping she'd figure things out by herself." His eyes returned to the street ahead, where the hustle and bustle was beginning to thin out. "I knew she still loved you."

Elsa's lips parted, and her attention did away with her task at hand. "How?" she murmured.

"It was the way she looked at you. That, and she wouldn't shut up about you when she was on the _Star._ You were, like, her hero."

Looking back at the street with glazed eyes, Elsa felt a faint smile curl at her lips. "She talked about me…"

Frost shot her another look, that time one of bemusement, as though she had said something resoundingly stupid. "Duh." He immediately adopted a mocking, sing-song tone, pulling a face. "' _My sister would have loved this. When we were kids, we did this all the time'._ Started to get annoying."

Elsa was too busy nursing the sensation of her chest swelling with warmth to register the tone. Too busy grinning with hope. "I'm surprised," she said, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"Why, 'cause of how she was with you?"

Elsa nodded.

Frost merely shrugged. "You're both very different people to who you were six years ago. You both just need to get used to that."

She gave him a slightly put out look. "I'm still the same person."

Frost turned, and looked at her with the same look he gave her when she asked him about the performance report. "Huh. Yeah. Okay. Tell me - if you wanted to stick that sword of yours through my heart, which ribs would you go between?"

There was something in his eyes that, for a brief yet uncomfortable moment, caught her breath and made her feel isolated. A steely focus that arrested her heart, which combined with the topic of questioning, left her with the odd sensation he was peering into her soul. The man she wanted for years to kill, asking her how she would do it.

He raised his eyebrows as a silent prompt. Swallowing with a suddenly dry mouth, she answered truthfully. "I wouldn't. I don't want to hurt you."

His gaze didn't leave her for a second. "Not what I asked."

She looked away, an unwelcome and telling cringe contorting her face. Why did he have to ask _that?_ And to think they were making progress and building a rapport. Guilt settled in her heart like a heavy iron ball. She nibbled at her lower lip, and then answered in a small voice, "Fourth and fifth rib."

There was a quiet snort of breath that screamed ' _figures',_ and he looked away with a frown. "Would you have known that six years ago?"

Her gaze lowered, not out of remembering his tips but of shame. "No…"

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence between them, reminding her of the pain she caused. It was on the tip of her tongue to apologise more than there were people in the street, to try and bring back the relative optimism and joviality that existed between them, rather than remind herself of all the horrible things that had happened.

Frost was the one to break it, to her surprise.

"Neither would Anna, but she does now. She also knows just how much pressure to apply to someone's neck so she just knocks them out, instead of crushing their throat. Like I said, two different people."

She knew she shouldn't feel better, but nevertheless she did, if only a little. It felt wrong; after all, Frost was basically reminding her that her sister who loved snowmen, flowers, sandwiches, and got excited over childish, whimsical things, now was adept in the art of war, violence, and killing. Never before, until that fateful night had she dreamed her sweet sister would be so dangerous.

"You sound like you speak from experience."

He didn't instantly respond, causing her eyes to flick up to the side of his face, and what she noticed aroused a pang of concern: his eyes, his brows… his whole expression told a tale of heartache and regret. She wondered what had happened to him to cause such a response.

He must have sensed her gaze, for after a quick glance he blinked away the pain and brought back the frown. "Not really. Just thousands of hours on watch with nothing but my mind for company." He gave her a longer look, and a gentle, reassuring nod. "She's a good soldier. You should be proud of her."

Elsa winced slightly. "I am - she grew up into a very capable woman… it's just that-" she sighed, "-I wish the circumstances were better."

Frost took a deep breath and a long sigh, and his lips quirked into a lopsided line. "So do I," he said knowingly. "But… we do what we can to protect who we care about."

Elsa reacted to his words by doing something neither of them expected; her right hand left the pocket to gently hold his left forearm as a silent request for them to stop, and for his undivided attention. His gaze quickly snapped between her hand and her eyes, an expression of frowning surprise on his face, but she held her ground.

"I'm glad she had someone like you to protect her, when I couldn't be there."

Frost went quiet, seemingly unsure of what to make of her gratitude. It was like he was still having great difficulty reconciling Snow Queen with Elsa Snowfield. His lips parted, just as Elsa drew her hand away. "I just wanted you to know that."

Stiffening slightly, he closed his mouth and shrugged. "Yeah, well, I wasn't you. I'm her best friend, but I think all she really wanted was her sister with her."

"All the same… thank you."

Frost abruptly set off again, forcing Elsa to jerk into motion to keep up. Whatever heartfelt moment there was between them seemed to vanish into thin air, with the mildly bemused and slightly teasing words from his mouth, "No thanks needed. Anyway, it's not like she needed protecting. You saw how she kicked your ass on the _Star."_

Elsa groaned with ill-disguised exasperation, and once more completed the relevant trifecta. "I didn't fight back, because I didn't want to hurt her."

"She still kicked your ass."

"Fine. Whatev-"

Frost's hand shot up, and in an instant, the words died in her mouth. His eyes glazed over as he frowned, tilting his head - with a slight widening of her eyes, she realised he was hearing something through his earpiece.

No words pertaining to winter graced her sense of hearing, but the troubled look he wore told her it wasn't good. "Copy. We'll stay frosty. Over and out," he said.

"What's wrong?"

Frost spoke with an attempt at a breezy, casual voice. "Good news is we're almost through the street, soon all you'll need to worry about is Astrid."

"And the bad news?"

He winced. "Bad news is Anna just spied a couple of militia groups heading this way. They're carrying data tablets… with your pictures on them."

Elsa took a sharp intake of breath, feeling her heart stop for a few seconds while her face paled.

"D-do… do they know we're here?" she said, her voice trembling a little. If Unity was aware of their presence, there could be no telling how much danger she, her friends, and the Ghosts could be in.

Assuming the Ghosts didn't abandon them.

Frost shook his head. "No." Elsa breathed a loud sigh of relief. "But it means we're gonna have a little fun, instead. You're gonna have to trust me, and do what I say, when I say it," he finished with the weight of a serious order.

"Okay," she responded far too shakily. Walking into battle was one thing, but her spine was far too busy fending off the chill of fear.

"Hey," Frost said, in a tone that made her look up at him. His eyes were reassuring, and there was confidence in his words. "It's gonna be okay."

Whether she intended it or not, she glanced down at his lips and back up again, a light blush returning colour to her cheeks. Her lower lip curled between her teeth, and she slowly nodded.

"Okay. Remember, casual walking. You're not a Valkyrie, you're not a fugitive. You're just a face in the crowd."

"Just a face in the crowd," Elsa repeated, her heart beating a thunderous wardrum rhythm so fierce, it felt like her ribs were soon to crack under the pressure.

Out of the left turn, thirty metres ahead of them, two men and two women appeared from behind the corner of one of the more well-kept buildings, the front of which displayed several kinds of moderately-repaired jackets. At first, they looked normal, until Elsa noticed the serious scowls they wore as their eyes searched the street.

"Alright, standard militia two-by-two search formation," Frost muttered.

"What do I do?" Elsa said in a hurried hiss.

"Put your arm around me, and laugh quietly at something I said."

There was a moment where two trains of thought collided to form a horrific, visceral crash; the awareness that she had to follow his every instruction, and the memory of his reaction at the park bench. She hesitated, unsure of which way to go, and the closest militia member's head began to turn toward her.

"Put your arm around me!" Frost hissed through gritted teeth, his lips hardly moving.

Elsa's entire body jerked into action, and her right arm leashed around his waist while his left arm curled itself around her shoulders, and angling her head toward his chest, she cracked a smile and summoned up an awkward giggle.

The militia members passed them by. Her ears opened themselves to the sounds of the street, her adrenaline-addled mind desperately picking apart the myriad voices and words for anything that would indicate their secrecy had vanished. Her heart continued to bash her ribs, seemingly fuelling its assault by drying her mouth.

Nothing.

Under her arm, she could feel his lungs deflate with a ragged breath of relief, and as he pulled his arm away from her, she removed hers with as much speed as normalcy would allow.

"God, it feels like I'm about to pass out," she said in a tremulous voice.

"I have that effect on women," Frost quipped. The tautness of his nerves was still audible in how his tone wavered, but it nevertheless did an admirable job of distracting her from her spike of fear, prompting her to groan loudly and jab him with an elbow.

"Are you always this egotistical?"

Frost tilted his head as if to concede a point. "Sometimes. Sometimes I'm sweet, charming, debonair-"

"Don't forget humble," Elsa drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I don't know what that means," he said, frowning. Elsa looked up at him in disbelief, and was ready to pick apart his lack of vocabulary, when she saw the twinkle his eyes, and the smirk on his lips. "Maybe Anna should get me a dictionary for my birthday."

The urge of curiosity was too strong to handle. "When was your-"

"Shit."

And just like that, the good humour vanished. Elsa's heart skipped a beat, and her eyes darted every direction ahead of her, the fear and nervousness returning to pummel her spine with a vengeance. "What?"

"Second group, one man, three women, two o'clock, opposite sidewalk. Coming right at us."

Elsa straightened her spine and tried hard to calm her lungs, though with her nerves feeling like they were nearing breaking point, her breathing came thick and fast. Did the militia members see them? Had they been made, and were the members advancing for confirmation? The group stopped an old man as he made his way toward the food dispensary behind them, and their leader pointed at the glass tablet he brandished in the man's face.

Terrifying worst-case scenarios ran through her mind at the speed of light, like a twenty-strong _Einherjar_ dogfight. Images of her and her team being led away while the Ghosts were executed. The whole town going on alert. A vicious battle in Perdition's streets, with her and Frost versus the combined clone and militia force. Her frenetic gaze fell upon the reflective surface of an old mirror fifteen metres ahead, and if it were possible, her anxiety about how the operation was going sideways, deepened.

"Frost."

The group they had passed, had circled around.

"I know."

They were heading toward them.

"Look," she hissed. "The mirror."

As ever, Frost's vocabulary in the time of tension and anxiety was limited. "Shit."

"What do we do?" Elsa muttered, assaulted by the knowledge that even with the difference between her and the image on the tablet, there was no way she would stand up to close scrutiny if _they_ were stopped. _Everything_ was going wrong.

The militia group ahead of them let the old man go, and resumed their journey toward them. Elsa's anxiety peaked. "Frost…"

She felt a hand lace itself with a vice-like grip around her right upper arm, and before her automatic response kicked in to loop her arm around the offending limb, so she could force pressure against the elbow and snap it, she felt herself be guided to a small gap between the stalls at her left. The hand then pulled her in a circle so that her back was to the street.

Bewildered by the sudden act, since it flew in the face of everything she had been learning up to that point, she stared into Frost's ice blue, almost _glowing_ eyes as they bore down on her. His brows were furrowed, his face deadly serious.

"Kiss me."

Her eyes popped in their head at the same time as her jaw hit the dusty sidewalk. He was joking. He _had_ to be. The anxiety of what felt like a trap closing in around her vanished, leaving behind a newly blank slate of a mind that was swiftly filled with complete and utter bewilderment. That was _without_ the sudden thump in her chest, and _without_ the sensation of the world around her suddenly becoming surreal.

"...what did you say to me?" she murmured. What was he _thinking,_ at a time like this _?_

Frost's face flashed with impatience, and his eyes flicked above her head for the briefest of seconds.

"Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable," he said in a rapid, low staccato.

"Y-yes," she replied with a stammer, "they do-"

She, and her presence of cognitive thought, was cut off by the surge of his head toward her, and the rough meeting of his lips to hers. Her body stiffened like a lightning rod, fusing her jaw shut while her hands stuck helplessly out at her sides. So stunned was she, in wide-eyed shock, that her lips remained shut while his moved pointlessly against them.

He abruptly pulled back, and glared at her with tangible irritation. Had she not been so floored by his sudden act, she _might_ have glowered right back.

"This isn't fucking amateur hour, Snow Queen," he hissed, his gaze flicking between her left and right eyes. "Put some goddamn effort in!"

Whether it was the challenging tone to his words, or the expletive dropped in the middle of them, or even the use of her call sign, she wasn't sure. All she knew was her prior state was jarred away, leaving a voice in her mind of almost stubborn retribution.

_You want to play it that way?_

_Fine._

"Fuck you," she whispered breathlessly.

Her hands shot up inside his hood, and yanked him down by his head to capture his lips with hers. Closing her eyes, she savored the sensation of the effort put in on both sides, their lips crashing against each other like an unbridled, soft wave of water on rock. She laced her fingers into his snow-white hair, holding him there, whilst his hands made their way to rest at her waist. Her body betrayed her with a shuddering breath into his mouth, and even though her mind had been reduced to a light haze thanks to the car crash of heightened anxiety, the taste of him on her lips was not altogether displeasing.

Not to mention, he was far better at kissing than Dylan, even though Frost was clearly acting.

Hell of an actor.

Frost broke the kiss, pulling his head back with enough vigor to free it from her hands. For a moment, she gazed at him, and he at her, his lips reddened by their spontaneous contact, and all she could hear was a thumping in her ears.

"Did it work?" she whispered.

Frost nodded, but it was slow and jerky, almost as if he had forgotten how to perform the simple act. "Yeah," he murmured. "They met up with the others and carried on down the street, instead."

She pocketed her hands, and tried to ignore the way her fingers began to fiddle with each other. "So, we're safe."

Frost uttered a single chuckle, and a faint lopsided smirk appeared on his lips as he too hid his hands in the pocket of his sweater. "Still feeling uncomfortable?"

Elsa rolled her eyes, and scoffed with exasperation. "It's not the first word that comes to mind," she said with as dry a tone as summer in New Burgess, before turning away from him and starting her casual saunter toward the direction they were previously headed.

Well, an _attempt_ at a casual saunter. It wasn't like her legs were feeling like noodles, _at all_.

* * *

His lungs burned, like he was sucking lungfuls of searing fire, but each gasp of oxygen was life giving fuel to drive him on. His legs screamed obscenities at him, begging him to free them from the lactic acid filling his muscles. His mind was peacefully blank, save for the stubborn determination to keep running, to keep gouging the earth with his feet, and his heart? Punching at his ribcage so hard, it felt like it would obliterate itself against the protective bones. His scar still burned in a thin line on his back.

He only set out to run a few one mile circuits around the safe house to clear his head, and to ease himself back into his fitness routine. Just a small run, with the iPod's previous owner's eclectic music choices serenading him. Just a couple of circuits. Nothing too big.

He was halfway approaching his thirteenth mile. Thirteen circuits in forty five minutes. Three cheers for post-Bloom physiological adaptations.

The iPod blasted the song _Queen of Peace_ by the artist _Florence and the Machine_ into his ears while he ran _-_ whoever they were, and whether this Florence actually utilised a machine or not was up for debate - as it had done, on repeat, since he left the house. He had dubbed it long ago his ' _need to think'_ song - and he had a lot to think about.

Damn her for complicating things. Damn that kiss. It was stupid; he shouldn't have done it.

It was like he was at war with himself. The previous few days had amounted to small skirmishes between points of view, but his time with Elsa had turned it into outright, bloody war. The half of him reminding him of the past, of what he and his kind had lost, who was responsible, and that they were sat under the Ghosts' roof in relative safety. The part that pointed at the still-healing scar, saying, " _Don't you forget who did that. Don't trust them. This could be a huge gambit for Unity, to get you to trust the Valkyries so they can betray you when the time is right. The safety of your friends is too important."_

" _Don't fall under her spell."_

Embroiled in battle was the other side. The side that pointed to Elsa effectively killing the Valkyrie name for the sake of peace, who seemed to truly care for her sister and sought to redeem herself, and her friends, in the eyes of his team. She seemed to be intent on making it work. Maybe everything was on the level with them, and he truly had nothing to fear. Maybe they truly were just people trying to survive, betrayed and nearly killed by those who used and manipulated them, and they clung to the Ghosts as the closest things they had to friends. Actual people trying to make the best of a shitty situation.

The part telling him that though he had every reason to distrust them _now_ , did not mean they _couldn't_ be trusted, and the only things holding him back were his own grudges. Anna and Rapunzel seemed to be on an amicable level, and even Kozmotis was tolerating Merida.

So what was it about Elsa, that was causing the past Jack and the future Jack to be at war?

What if Elsa was speaking the truth when she said she didn't want to hurt him?

It was at that moment, when the question was asked, his world was yanked sideways. Whether it was the errant root his left boot connected with, or the way his legs finally gave out on him, he wasn't sure - but what was certain was the taste of dirt in his mouth, and the meagre lungful of air ripped from his lungs as his chest slammed against the earth. The palms of his hands joined his knees in stinging pain.

_Fuck you, gravity,_ he hissed irritably in his mind.

Groaning, he awkwardly and slowly pushed himself to his knees, wearing a heavy wince at the myriad aches and sharp stings throughout his body, both of his design and of gravity's, and remained on all fours with his head bowed. Sweat dripped from his nose, forehead and drenched tendrils of hair while he sucked in breath after breath. Exhausted and out of steam, with a quarter mile to go, his mind pointed out amidst a thick haze. He shook his head in annoyance - couldn't his body, or gravity itself have waited until the thirteenth mile before forcing him down?

With weakened arms that felt like lead, he pushed himself to a kneeling position, and reached to the back of his belt for the canteen of water, and brought it before him whilst his entire body rose and fell with each gasp of air. There was only a pitiful amount of water left but it was drained nonetheless, and he then took the time to ' _admire the view'_ whilst he waited for his breathing to calm.

"You're fifteen minutes slower than usual."

Had he not recognised the smooth, sweet, serene voice, he would have reacted quickly and violently with the nine millimetre at his thigh… but he never could mistake the feeling of peace whenever she spoke. Nor the ache of loss that came with it, as it called from his deepest, happiest memories. Of course, hearing her voice wasn't exactly a _good_ thing.

He took one unimpressed look at the woman sat erect on a wide tree stump, with raven black hair tidied with a red ribbon, ruby lips, and unblemished pale skin. Her blouse was as vibrant a blue as he always remembered, and her ankle length, spring yellow skirt was cascading elegantly down crossed legs. She smiled at him, both out of pride and wry amusement.

She looked perfect. Rejuvenated, healthy, _alive._

"Great." Jack let his exasperation run wild, and closed his eyes as he scratched at the spot between his raised eyebrows. "I knew I should've filled my canteen before I left."

"Why do you say that?"

He sighed, and looked back at her. "Because even my goddamn _hallucinations_ are throwing shade at me."

Neve's smile barely moved. "Is that what I am?"

Jack stared at her. "Um… yeah? I didn't hydrate enough, because I'm seeing you, and you're…"

He trailed off. His throat had closed up. His brow peaked, and as he blinked over again, his mouth opened and closed to say the words that would never come. He couldn't say the word.

Neve clicked her tongue, and her head tilted an inch while her expression became one of sympathy. "Oh, Jack. I could be a hallucination, or I could be a spirit coming to my son in his hour of need. The question you need to ask yourself is-" she rose from the stump with the elegance of an unfurling flower, and walked to offer her hand, "-does it really matter?"

Jack snorted in quiet self-reproach, and cocked a half-smile. It didn't matter in the slightest. He took her hand, and his breath hitched at how _real_ she felt. Smooth and silky fingers, with a faint chill, just like he remembered. He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt of effort, and with one hand grasping hers as though it would disappear if he let go, he accompanied her to the stump.

"You seem troubled, Jack. Have you thought of singing a song?" she said as they sat side by side. Jack immediately shot her a bemused look.

"...a song?"

Neve nodded slowly, her smile not falling an inch. "Yes. When I was afraid, or troubled, I would sing a song and hope for a happily ever after."

Jack scoffed, scratching his temple. "I'm a little too old for fairy tales, Mom."

"Ah, but that's the thing," Neve said, slowly waggling her finger. "Fairy tales teach us lessons, and help to remind us that the world isn't so awful. That you can find love in the darkest places, that there is a happily ever after, and that you can love someone and be independent at the same time. It is a shame many can't see that."

Jack grunted. Resting his eyes on the safe house, he wondered if anyone was watching him, questioning why he was talking to thin air.

"I'll say this for the Ghosts; you definitely pick the scenic locations," said Neve as she too observed the house in the distance. Perched on a small hill, the house offered unrivalled three-sixty degree view around it in case of intruders - and it was easier to defend a hill than climb it.

"Oh yeah." Jack deadpanned. "It really helps the resale value."

Neve laughed a small, amused laugh. "I'm glad to see your wit has not diminished."

"Glad _something_ hasn't."

Jack bent down to pick a solitary daisy from the base of the stump, and rested his elbows on his knees whilst absent-mindedly picking the petals one by one. His throat was doing a grand job of growing a lump, so it wasn't like he could talk much. Ironic.

"Do you recall the first time we met?"

Neve didn't seem to possess such a problem. "You were fifteen when you first arrived on the Star. I remember it well. Fifteen, full of teenage hormones, anger… and pain. So much pain, that you would hide it behind your mischief, sarcasm and wit."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Jack's lips. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure I was a little sh-"

Neve immediately gave him _that_ look. He hastily amended his words.

"-ining example of bad behaviour." His smile fell to a thin line. "I wasn't a good kid to you for a while."

"You knew you were growing closer to me, seeing me as your mother, and in doing so, felt you were betraying the memory of your birth mother. I anticipated that."

Jack looked at her with a mildly annoyed glare. "So, what, you think that's why I am the way I am to Elsa and her friends? If I keep them at arm's length, I'm not betraying you and everyone on the _Star?"_

Neve smiled, a knowing glimmer in her eyes. "You said it, not me."

Jack stared blankly at her, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He hated it when she did that. "Yeah, well, it's just that-" he said in protest, thoroughly annoyed with how she was, even as a hallucination-or-maybe-spirit able to pull the same tricks she used to. "They hurt us. I mean, _actually_ hurt us."

The knowing look persisted. "Kozmotis dislocated Astrid's arm and knocked Rapunzel unconscious. Anna could have broken Elsa's ribs, and your staff does not exactly administer a light slap. I am surprised Elsa's molars weren't dislodged. Don't forget - you had Elsa's sword at her own neck."

Jack's face paled into a whiter shade than it was logically possible - she was right. Everything the Valkyries had done to the Ghosts, they had returned in kind. "But I didn't kill her," he sputtered, the petal-less daisy falling from his fingers with the gusto of his protest. "And it's different with Elsa, she was after _me."_

Neve's left hand enclosed around his right. "Which is why they follow you, my son. You showed them, showed _her_ mercy when she would have shown you none. They look back now, and don't believe they deserved it. Because of that, they may feel they owe a debt that cannot be repaid-"

Though he knew he shouldn't have, as it felt like laughing at somebody's misfortune, he let out a dark snigger. "Astrid's gonna hate that."

"-except in blood and solidarity. Do you not see, Jack? They would stand with you against the same evil that turned them into who they are," Neve finished, shooting him a disapproving look for daring to interrupt. "The only one preventing them, is you."

Jack sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not that simple, Mom."

"Nothing ever is."

"No, you don't get it." Jack looked up at the darkening sky, its previous amber flames dissolving into the black of night, and wondered why he was explaining himself to someone who _should_ , by rights, be dead. "Elsa came after _me._ Her team was just a way to get to me. My team didn't matter to her, unless they were in her way. She made it personal."

"And she is reaping what she has sown, facing the consequences of her actions with dignity and humility," Neve pointed out. "She would endure your hate and distrust, because she feels she deserves nothing less. Elsa is a _good_ person, and you know it. Even good people can be made to commit unforgivable acts by bad people."

Jack looked at her, and was lost for words. Neve was right, and try as the part of him stubbornly holding onto his past might, it couldn't defeat her words. He had been using his pain as a shield, and in doing so, allowed it to embitter him. He looked down at her lap, focusing all he had left on swallowing down the suffocating lump in his throat so as to hold back the tears in his eyes, welling ever since she appeared.

"This," he said in a hoarse, cracking whisper as he fought to calm his jaw from trembling. He sniffed. "This, right here, is why I need you…"

Neve's face fell, and she looked at him with deep sympathy and pity. "Oh, Jack." She reached up, and held the left side of his face. "Such shoulders should not have to bear the weight of the world."

Jack scoffed bitterly, and a single tear escaped the self-built barricade. With every word she spoke, his heart was killing him, hearing her voice. "Yeah, well, they do. I have to keep _seven_ people safe, including the four people who tried to kill us. Who want to ally with us. I just…" he reached up his free hand to wipe away the tear, "I just don't know if I can do it."

He released her hand, if only to hold it with the other, so he could keep her other hand against his face. She frowned the way a parent would, when bearing witness to their child's pain. "I never wanted you to have this life," she murmured.

His eyes shot up to meet hers, their shimmering quality perfectly reflected in her hazel eyes. Mild shock gripped his heart and chest, and with a weak voice, he said, "Weren't you proud of me?"

Neve smiled widely, but the guilt and regret was clear in her eyes. "Oh, Jack. I was. I still am. When you told me you were signing up for Ghost training, I was immeasurably proud. You always had that sense of responsibility, of maturity, the desire to protect those you cared about, and you were ready to risk your life to protect your kind. Everyone else saw only the prankster, the mischievous boy… but I saw through it."

Neve hesitated, and looked away for a few seconds, as though carefully choosing her next words. She looked back, and the sadness in her eyes was clear.

"But it also broke my heart. You were a free spirit, Jack. You always have been. You and Hiccup - you're like brothers in that. You were at your happiest when simply flying in the sky, or entertaining the children. It broke my heart that you were going to subject yourself to the horrors of war, to bear witness to the lengths human beings go to hurt each other, with their words and their guns. My son wanted to be a warrior and a hero… war changes people, Jack. I did not want to see your free spirit corrupted by it."

Jack looked away, and stared with glazed eyes at her blouse covered shoulder whilst line after line of tears slipped down his cheek. He would not cry.

His lips trembled. He would not cry.

"But it was your choice to make, and I accepted that, and I will _always_ be proud of you, and of all you've accomplished… because you are my son, and I love you."

He would cry.

The dam broke, and as though control of him was ripped away by his bottled grief, he surged forward and buried his face in her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her like she was his lifeline, and choked uncontrollable sobs into the fabric of her blouse. Neve made a sound of sympathy, and then held her son tightly against her while murmuring, "It's okay to let it out, Jack. You can finally grieve for me."

He cried for a full minute, where Neve did nothing but hold him close and whisper reassurances into his ear whilst he poured out his grief. Maybe _that_ was why he couldn't do it before. Maybe he needed to see her one last time.

His weeping abated enough for him to rein back his sobs to speak, and as he turned his head to rest on her chest, hoping to hear her heart once again, he heard nothing. "I miss you so much, Mom," he said in a voice, broken by cracks.

Neve clicked her tongue again, and he felt the stroke of her hands up and down his back. "I know. But it's not so bad where I am. I have all the plants I could ever want to tend to, excellent company, and Bavarian music to last me until the end of time."

Jack sniffed, and nodded as a faint smile tugged at his lips. "I'm glad. I just…"

He trailed off. Neve's hands stroked along his back as he pulled away to look at her, and rested comfortably on his upper arms. The lump grew, sharply reminding him of its existence every time he swallowed, and following a pitiful sniff, he finished in a hoarse voice, "I just don't want to be alone again."

Neve smiled. Her hands moved up to cup his face, and a single tear slid over her lips. "And you never will be, Jack. I will always be with you-" her head tilted to the safehouse, "-and so will they."

A gentle, cold breeze danced around mother and son, kicking up dead leaves once tenaciously held by trees unwilling to succumb to winter's dominion. Neve looked up at the rustling, and her smile became one of acceptance. She nodded, seemingly to herself.

"My time grows short," she murmured.

Jack felt the rush of panic. He wasn't ready. He probably would never _be_ ready. Not to let her go again. His hands jumped up to clutch at hers, and his face contorted with worry. "I don't want you to go…"

"I know." She straightened up to apply a small kiss to his forehead; it was soft, it was tender, and it chased away his panic and doubt. Just like it always did. "But it's not for us to decide - we just have to decide what to do with the time we have been given. I wanted to guide my son, and it's up to you to decide: will you hold onto the past like a warm blanket, or will you take a chance so you can start building a future?"

"What future without you?" he whispered.

"A free future." The breeze swirled around them once again, causing a flash of worry to cross Neve's face as her eyes danced around, as though seeing things only she was privy to. Her gaze returned to him, and the worry instantly vanished behind the warmth of motherly love. "Courage, Jack. Courage for what is to come. The days will be hard, and and your enemies will be many - but I believe in you, and your team."

Jack let out a raggedy sigh, and closed his eyes. "Thanks, Mom. I love you so much."

Neve leaned down, and rested her forehead against his. Snow white hair mingled with raven black. "I love you too, my son. Goodbye."

The breeze caressed his face for the third time, rustling the leaves in the nearby trees, and sending a shiver down his spine - the cold _never_ made him do that. He opened his eyes, noticing the sudden absence of pressure on his head, and realised why - she left with the breeze, disappearing into nature. Empty space where her head used to be, and nothing but air where he held her hands.

Independent of his mind, his lungs pushed out a shaky breath, and he held his hands together and pressed them against his lips. "Bye, Mom."

" _Streak to Frost, you reading me?"_

Maybe she was right, in a way. Life went on, and it was proven to him with almost annoying clarity thanks to Anna's radio call. He sniffed, and palmed away his tears. "I read you. Go ahead."

" _You okay? You don't sound okay, you sound like you've been-"_

"What's up, Streak?" Jack said, sighing. He wasn't ready for her _someone-is-hurting-I-must-help-them_ inquisition just yet.

" _Well,"_ she began uncertainly, as though disarmed by his brusque interruption, " _it's gonna be dark in about fifteen minutes, and…"_

"Pitch back yet?"

" _Not yet. He should be here soon."_

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Alright." He pushed himself to his feet, and slowly walked to the point where he fell. The iPod lay forgotten on the ground, having been dislodged from his pocket by his impromptu flight, its earphones trailing away like white rivulets over the grass. "Lemme know when he gets back," he said as he bent down to pick it up, and paused when he noticed the screen. The song had changed, likely as a result of tumbling to the ground.

_Queen of Peace_ had become _Sabotage_ by _The Beastie Boys_ , whoever _they_ were. "Good choice," he murmured.

" _You coming back soon?"_

Grinning, Jack put an earphone into his left ear, and tapped the PLAY button before sliding it back into his pocket. "In a minute," he said, as the song opened with the rough, catchy guitar riff he always liked.

"I've got another quarter mile to run."


	43. Perdition II: Of Sunlight and Flame

" **Perdition II: Of Sunlight and Flame"**

"Pretty far from your dream, eh, Punzie?"

The brunette puffed into her hair, and found vaguely disappointing the lack of dancing bangs thanks to the faded green headscarf wrapped around her head. Legs crossed, her left foot jiggled a mental rhythm bouncing her ankle-length brown skirt, as she watched a distant Frost and Elsa disappear into the mass of citizens in the town centre. One hand drew itself from the pocket of her faded lilac cardigan to scratch at her eyebrow, whilst her lips quirked sideways. Anna had been gone for a while, which didn't exactly help the onset of reproachful self-introspection.

"I mean, six years ago you wanted to be an artist. You wanted to paint cool stuff like lanterns and suns while you went into the family calling of healing people. Now look at you - running ten miles in thirty minutes, nearly resurrecting the dead with your bare hands… body count an Inquisitor could only imagine." She snorted, and smiled almost _bitterly._ "Oh yeah, can't forget: you lost the love of your life, and you may or may not be responsible."

Her mind continued to assault her with blame. "Way to go, Punzie. Real close to your dream."

Sighing a deep breath, she clutched the cardigan closer around her neck to stave off a shiver. She was a child of sunlight, of summer warmth. Verdant greenery and vibrant flowers, not dead trees and early December chills. She was to winter as Astrid was to subtlety.

Her throat pulsed with a dull ache as it had done since breaking down at Eugene's grave. The day had been somewhat of a distraction, but the heartache was as present as it had ever been. "It's all my fault," she whispered to herself, staring in thought at the dusty ground. "You were right, Eugene. There was always a choice. I could have ran away before they came for me. I could have… met you in a different way. Maybe…" she hesitated, and then let loose a forlorn chuckle, "maybe the Ghosts could have found me. I could have been a Ghost… hah! You're so funny, Blondie-"

"You know talking to yourself is the first sign you're a crazy person, right?"

Rapunzel practically leaped to the left. Hand on her newly hammering heart, breathing quickly and heavily, she shot a withering look at the owner of the voice sat right beside her.

Anna innocently watched her whilst she took a bite out of a carrot. "I mean, crazy is cool and all," she added with a half-full mouth, shrugging.

"How the heck did you sneak up on me like that?" Rapunzel said in a shout-whisper.

Anna's eyes moved in random directions, "Uhm…" before settling back on her with a mildly incredulous expression, "Ghost, remember? The clue is kinda in the name?"

There was a loud, awkwardly abrupt crunch as Anna took another bite, her eyes not leaving Rapunzel's. With a blank face, Rapunzel glanced down at the almost fully eaten vegetable and back up, prompting Anna to dive into the pocket of her lilac hooded sweater, pull out another one with a slightly askew tip, and offer it to her. "Want one?"

"Uh, no…" Rapunzel blinked, then vigorously shook her head as though she wanted to literally shake the confusion off her mind. "Wait a sec - why _are_ you eating raw carrots?"

"One," Anna gestured toward her with the wonky-tipped carrot, "they're not raw."

To emphasise her point, once she twisted around to dunk the unwanted end into the trash can at the side of the bench, she held the wonky one in both hands and hummed an upbeat little number. Wondering if she had just stepped into a parallel dimension, Rapunzel watched in half-curiosity, half-bewilderment as faint puffs of smoke wafted into the air from between Anna's fingers. There was a quiet hissing sound, and it wasn't long before the smell of something being roasted graced her nose. Anna made a noise that sounded suspiciously like ' _ding!'_ and pulled her hands away to reveal a thoroughly cooked and slightly blackened carrot.

Even though she herself could reknit bones, close gashes and heal ailments with her hands, and Astrid could vibrate a drinking glass at such a frequency it would shatter, the fact that Anna had just cooked a carrot with her bare hands, right in front of her, was mind-bending.

"Two - I'm pregnant and hungry." Another crunch, and the askew carrot was askew no more. "Three… my husband liked to eat 'em raw. I guess I'm trying to…" Anna trailed off, her eyes falling as they glazed over. Rapunzel knew that look - the trip down Memory Lane when the destination wasn't a happy place. She had seen that look before, framed by platinum blonde rather than strawberry.

She figured a change of subject was on the menu. "Do you believe in destiny?"

Anna looked at her with an odd frown, swallowing her mouthful. "The hell kinda question is that?" she said sharply.

A little stung by the harshness of Anna's reply, Rapunzel instantly looked down and away, and fiddled with the insides of her pockets. She expected a little hostility as soon as Elsa requested asylum, but... ouch.

There was a deep, reproachful sigh from her 'tutor'. "Sorry," she said in a soft voice. "I shouldn't have said that."

Rapunzel offered a few awkward glances, but no lingering eye contact. "It's okay."

"No, it's not."

That time, Rapunzel looked for longer than a second, just as Anna somewhat resignedly dumped the half-eaten carrot into the trash, and absent-mindedly watched the crowd. "I don't know, if I'm honest. See, I believe fate's what you make of it, that nothing's set in stone. I believe the future is the sum of all the choices you make..."

There was that trailing off again. Rapunzel watched her patiently whilst assessing her choices - had Anna lost verbal steam because the subject was too close to home, or was she leaving it open for Rapunzel to gently prompt her? Maybe Anna was testing to see if she really was interested in what she had to say, but the last snap wasn't exactly nice.

She tossed caution to the wind. "You sound like you're not so sure."

"Well, I'm not… but I am? I am and, I'm not—but I am?"

When Rapunzel looked blankly and a little weirdly at her, Anna instantly screwed her face up and shook both her head and her hands. "Lemme start over," she said, and gestured in such a way as though waiting for the correct words to come. A series of expressions flitted across her face, one after the other, like she was having a conversation with her own mind, and was alternately agreeable, then confused, then unimpressed, then incredulous depending on which voices spoke. "I signed up for Ghost training. I learned how to fly a _Hela._ Everything I've done so far, I've done 'cause I wanted to. Like, falling in love."

"Hate to say it," Rapunzel said, "but you still sound unsure."

"But that's the weird thing about it all," Anna continued, waggling a finger as though Rapunzel was onto something, "I never asked to bloom. I didn't choose the Purge. I never asked for Elsa to be taken away from me… though maybe one day, she'll tell me why."

Her face then changed into an expression of realisation, like the puzzle in her mind was falling into place. An understanding frown. "I guess… I guess I believe in chance. Like, our lives are made up of all these happenings, and though we can choose how to live our lives, sometimes things are out of our hands."

Rapunzel pursed her lips and nodded with eyebrows raised. "That's deep. Real deep. If I could, I'd clink a glass."

Anna snorted into an awkward half-smile. "What about you?"

"Me?" Rapunzel fell silent for a few moments, mildly surprised at the question. Why that was, she didn't know. "Wow, uh, okay. Well - I've been thinking about it. Like, a _lot._ And, I know this sounds weird, but… I can't help feeling like something brought me here. Call it what you will; fate, destiny-"

"A _really_ long walk," Anna drawled.

"-but I think that me, right here, was meant to be."

Her voice, whilst speaking the whole truth - except _that_ thing - wavered in such a way that the once carrot-scoffing Ghost instantly picked up on it. "Now who's the one sounding unsure?"

Rapunzel watched two men argue in the distance with a fishmonger over the price of what looked like a cod. "But that's the horrible part - that would mean that for me to be here, in this moment, the Purge had to happen. All those people were meant to…"

"Eugene and my husband were meant to die," Anna finished for her with blunt honesty. Her words were slightly warped, enough for Rapunzel to surmise she was eating _again._ "Peanut?"

"Uh, nope, I'm good." Rapunzel looked away, trying not to think about how much food Anna had stuffed in her pockets. "And yeah… yeah. I guess… I guess I'm struggling with this idea that my life is pre-written, when I can't stop thinking about how different it could have been if I made a different choice."

Anna popped another peanut into her mouth and watched her with a mildly ambivalent curiosity. "Want my advice? You're thinking too hard. Stoppit. You get caught up in the past, you lose the future."

"You seem chilled about it all."

"I'm not." Anna popped a final peanut in her mouth and chewed it with vigor as she dusted her hands off. "It hurts every damn day, sometimes it feels like I'm breaking apart, and I would give anything to have Kristoff back - but that's not gonna happen. So I've got to focus on what's happening in the now, and that is that I've got a job to do, and that's teach you. 'Kay? Eyes forward, always."

Rapunzel immediately bolted her head forward and stared straight ahead, her face blank while she waited.

There was a light chortling from her 'tutor', causing the smallest of blushes on her cheeks. "I didn't mean literally."

"Oh," Rapunzel murmured as she reached up to scratch at the headscarf. "Right. Sorry."

"You must kick ass at Simon Says," Anna drawled. "That, or Truth or Dare." When Rapunzel frowned and opened her mouth to protest, Anna clapped her hands, and curled an excited smile. "-anyway! Now's the time to listen up, 'cause are you ready to get started?"

Jarred from her introspection, Rapunzel slowly blinked, and nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready," she said quietly.

Anna quirked an eyebrow, puffed out a breath, and gave her an unimpressed look. "Wow. That was, like, _so_ convincing. I've seen more emphatic declarations at high school finals. C'mon, you can do better than that."

Rapunzel straightened up whilst rolling her shoulders back, and gave her a look so serious, it would have made Elsa flinch. "I'm ready."

Closing her eyes, Anna vigorously shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Still not buying it. I think the words you're looking for are: I was _born_ ready! Emphasis on ' _born'._ C'mon, your turn."

There was something about how Anna bounced in her seat whilst clenching her fists in front of her, coupled with the way she growled ' _born'_ that caused an abrupt chuckle to escape Rapunzel's lips. It wasn't a stretch to assume she was the main motivator of the Ghosts. "Yes!" she said brightly, wearing a wild grin. "I was _born_ ready!"

Anna clapped quickly. "Attagirl! And what are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna _nail_ it!" Rapunzel said with fierce confidence… but then her smile fell as a confused look washed over her face. "Um… what am I gonna nail?"

"You, my young padawan, will learn how to identify, confirm, and lose a tail," Anna said, pointing both index fingers at her.

Rapunzel grinned. "Cool!" Then the grin fell. "What's a padawan?"

"Someone who's learning to be a Jedi."

"What's a Jedi?"

"They're from an old movie… wait-" Anna shook her head and waved her hands, "-never mind. Here's the sitch…"

Rapunzel then listened intently as Anna launched into a short explanation of her task; she would casually walk through the streets of Perdition, not too fast nor too slow, whilst Anna remained out of sight.

She had felt an immediate flash of worry and barely registered picking up the milky white earpiece Anna had subsequently offered. "Wait, you won't be walking with me?" she had asked as she automatically slipped it into her ear.

It then hit her like an Odin tank - she was wearing a _Ghost_ earpiece.

"Nope," Anna said, smirking as she shook her head. "But worry not, grasshopper - you won't see me, but I'll still be keeping an eye on you, and guiding you through the radio link."

"Okay." Rapunzel looked away, and nodded to herself. Maybe the act would inspire confidence? "I can do this."

"Relax. Or you won't _look_ relaxed, which is what you wanna look like, 'cause if you're not relaxed, folks will notice, and-" Anna must have noticed the increasingly concerned look on her face, so she quickly changed subject, "-what's your callsign?"

"Goldilocks," Rapunzel answered flatly, and tried to ignore the unwelcome pang of guilt in her heart that sprang as soon as the name left her mouth. "But I wanna change it. Can I change it?"

Anna tilted her head. "Sure. To what?"

"Blondie," Rapunzel declared without missing a beat.

Sky blue eyes flicked up to the headscarf and back down again, a bemused expression framing them. "... blondie?"

"It was," Rapunzel began, and looked away as a wistful smile curled her face. It was such an amazing night - sure, she could barely walk the following morning and had come undone with pleasure more times than she could count, but she knew a connection had been made, and a beautiful bond developed. If the world went to ruin, then she knew she'd be okay if she held onto the memory of that night. "It was Eugene's nickname for me. My way of keeping him close."

"Ahhh. Totally get you," Anna said, winking. She slipped a finger inside her hood, and with her lips barely moving, murmured, " _Secure channel six - you reading me loud and clear, Blondie?"_

The aural sensation of hearing Anna's natural voice in her left ear and her mechanically distorted voice on her right was mildly disorienting, but she knew it wouldn't be like that for long. "Channel six secure. Reading you loud and clear, Streak," she answered, smiling - being called Blondie felt a hell of a lot more gratifying than she thought.

" _Great. When you're ready, take the next street over. It's not as busy as the marketplace, so it's a good place for you to ease into it. All you need to do is walk, and I'll tell you when you need to do stuff. 'Kay?"_

Rapunzel gave the world a vigorous nod as her eyes went to the street in question. Much like the marketplace, patrons wearing clothing in varying degrees of ' _tattered'_ perused the various stalls looking for a good deal - obviously _not_ as good a deal as those offered in the other street - and the briefest glance revealed more risks to her health than if she were to walk into the Hall of the Unifier and announce she was an abnormal. On the other hand, there were vastly less patrons - if she had to admit it, she felt a hell of a lot more comfortable with that.

She inhaled a deep, strengthening breath through her nose, and her cheeks bulged as she puffed it out. "Let's do this," she declared more to herself than anyone else, and without giving her mind a chance to have a _first_ thought, let alone a second, she leapt to her feet and strode toward the street.

" _Whoa, there. Slow it down, Speedy Gonzales! You're having a nice walk through Perdition, not running the New Corona Marathon."_

Inwardly kicking herself, Rapunzel dialled back her pace to what she hoped was a relaxed stroll. Striding through like a purposeful force of nature was bound to raise eyebrows. "Got it. Slow it down. Gotcha."

" _Also - ease up on the volume. Like I said, talking to yourself-"_

"Is the first sign you're a crazy person," Rapunzel finished in a murmur, as she closed in on the street's entrance. "I remember."

" _Okay - I'm moving. I'll be on your four o'clock the whole time, but don't bother looking for me. You won't find me, and you'll only draw attention to yourself, copy?"_

"Copy," Rapunzel muttered as she took her first step into the street. A dozen voices meshed into the background, and her mind automatically worked to push them aside whilst it waited for Anna's every word.

" _Great. Firstly, always assume you're being followed, okay? Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature - and I mean figuratively - even if there's no reason you'd be tailed."_

Rapunzel snorted quietly. "Anyone ever told you you're a little paranoid?"

" _Nope. Why, did you hear something?"_

She tried to suppress the small smile - especially when hearing the amused but dry drawl in response. Wit seemed to be a hallmark of being a Ghost.

It was when she caught the eye of a grizzled, rotund man turning away from a scavenger stall ahead to head in her direction that she remembered the tips Anna had given her on the way to Perdition, and subsequently issued unto herself a swift rebuke for forgetting the basics:

_Keep your eyes down like you're lost in thought. Don't make eye contact unless you have to. You're just another citizen of Perdition, and trust me, they're not that approachable._

Her breath hitched; could he be militia? He didn't _look_ like one. Either way, she was already breaking a rule, and she had only just started. She knew it would be suspicious if she quickly averted her eyes, and the man might take offense. No-one seemed to smile here, either.

Thinking hastily, she elected for a simple nod, and returned her gaze to the ground whilst she passed him.

The man muttered a gruff, "Afternoon," as he walked by… and Rapunzel allowed herself a breath of relief.

" _Try not to do that again, Blondie. People round these parts don't have manners-"_

Rapunzel muttered her sincere agreement.

" _-but it means you get to try out your first trick. At your eleven o'clock, there's a map of Perdition on the wall."_

Her eyes instantly went ahead and to the left - lo-and-behold, a glass tablet one metre in height and half a metre in width was fixed to the wall of what looked - and smelled - like a food storehouse. Faint blue light hovered over the screen like a pleasant sheen. "I see it."

" _Go to it and pretend you're working out where you're going. While you do that, look the way you came for a few seconds, and remember what you see."_

Her direction gently veered to the wall-fixed map, and she came to a gentle stop in front of it. Perdition glowed before her in a small, blue, haphazardly designed circle, with irregularly shaped boxes denoting its myriad buildings, and as it sensed her presence, thin labelled lines sprouted from four equal sections inside the circle: _Habitation Quarter, Production Quarter, Entertainment Quarter_ and _Militia Quarter._

Pretending to study the map, Rapunzel tapped on the _Entertainment Quarter,_ causing the other three to shrink while the image zoomed in. While she waited for the dozens of labels to appear, she took a two-second glance the way she had came, and committed the snapshot to memory.

The grizzled man was slowly waddling away from her, unwashed white hair trailing down the back of his dirty beige jacket. Two middle-aged men with short, light auburn hair stood in front of a fur stall, in deep discussion about something - one of them wore a black eye patch, which was immediately noted. A woman with dark skin argued with a vendor over the price of a well-repaired blanket, and Rapunzel's heart twinged when she gestured between a small child clutching at her legs, and the apologetic-looking stall vendor.

And true to Anna's word, she was nowhere to be seen.

"Okay," she said, forcing herself to tear her eyes away from the child.

" _Carry on walking and go to the stall at the end. In the pocket of your skirt, there's a few credits - go buy an apple for later. When you do that, take another glance, and see if you notice anything."_

The prospect of food seemed to strike a chord with her stomach; it growled and clenched in response - maybe she should have ate before they left. Turning away from the map, she casually walked the deceptively large distance to the stall, her heart beating a noticeably tense rhythm every step of the way.

"Hi, can I get an apple, please?" she asked the vendor, a middle-aged Asian woman with a wry smile and motherly eyes.

"Sure, honey. They're two credits each, so pick which one you want."

Manners weren't entirely lost, it seemed. Rapunzel took a few moments to inspect the sloping tray of apples, noting their vibrant reds and greens, and how they all looked pretty dang delicious. Mouth watering, she licked her lips and tossed another glance down the street.

Bingo.

"I think," she said, keen to get moving again as she selected a juicy, ruby apple, "this one."

"Good choice." The woman smiled and extended her palm. Rapunzel gave her two credit chips before exchanging a farewell, and walked away.

"Streak, come in," she murmured, teeth gritted lightly in mild agitation.

" _Sup?"_

"I think I'm being followed."

" _Okay, stay calm. Gimme the sitch."_

Rapunzel pressed on toward the end of the street, which forced people to go left or right. She quickly muttered, "Two big guys, one wearing an eye patch. They were at a fur stall the first time I saw them, and when I bought the apple like you said, they were hanging around a scavenger place opposite the map."

" _Okay, I see them. One's wearing a green military jacket, Patch is wearing a black jacket. Fashion disaster, if you ask me. They're moving, but they're in no hurry."_

"What do I do?" Rapunzel asked, feeling the faint beginnings of uncertainty.

" _First you identified a possible tail, now you need to confirm it. Take the alleyway on your left."_

Her eyes instantly went to the darkened alleyway, forsaken by the sun's light. It was narrow and oppressive, and the idea of walking through it did not help the tension keeping her spine taut.

"Are you sure?"

" _Yep, just-"_

Anna's voice abruptly halted, nearly causing Rapunzel to freeze in step as her heart skipped a beat. As if the situation wasn't interesting enough, she _had_ to make it more interesting. "Streak, you there?"

Silence. Her breathing came rapid and shallow. The alleyway was close. It would be now or never. She fought the urge to turn and find out what the hell was going on. Once she entered the alleyway, she'd be out of sight - and unable to help.

The risk was too great. Slowly, she turned her head as she walked-

" _Don't turn around."_

-and snapped it right back.

Anna's voice was sharp and serious, like something had drained the cheerful optimism right out of her - nevertheless, Rapunzel breathed a ragged sigh of relief.

" _The alleyway takes you to the marketplace. Once you're there, take the bench on the other side of the street, and keep the alley in the corner of your eyes as you eat your apple - if they're following you, you'll know."_

Her voice was still brisk, uncompromising, like Frost's was when he addressed the group. Rapunzel knew something was wrong right then. "What's going on?"

" _Couple of militia dudes just came out of a meat storehouse ahead of me. They've got data tablets, and they're checking people out. I need to radio Frost, so I'm gonna be radio silent."_

"What's on the tablets?" The worrying implication hit her, and she froze in step. "Is it something to do with us?"

" _Don't worry about it. Just keep walking, do what I said, and you'll be fine. Streak out,"_ Anna responded with perceptible impatience.

Her earpiece fell silent, and she once again fought the seductive compulsion to turn around. Holding her head half-low, she sucked in and exhaled a quick breath, and rounded the corner into the alleyway.

The ambient noise of lunchtime crowds instantly dissipated into a dull field, leaving her crunching footsteps as the only sound bouncing off the worn brick walls. Narrow and oppressive, the dark walls bore down on her as she - a little faster than she should have - made her way to the gap at the end where figures appeared and disappeared as they crossed the entrance. She tucked the cardigan closer around her as she approached the gap and tried to ignore the dreadful sensation of everything closing in on her.

And the curious urge to turn.

It wasn't long before the alleyway opened up into the market street, where dozens of patrons milled about from one stall to the other. Her eyes moved around from person to person as she hovered at the alley entrance, and was struck by the odd sensation she'd have preferred the hive of activity over the comparatively reserved street she left.

Her eyes finally landed upon the bench Anna specified, and she launched into a brisk walk toward it, dodging the citizens moving to and fro. Plucking the apple from her pocket, she took a seat next to a frail old woman with trembling hands - and automatically, her mind attempted to diagnose the reason for the shakes.

_Potential nerve damage due to accident, or viral infection. Maybe old age - or exposure to low temperature._

She closed her eyes and shook away the thought - _head back in the game, Punzie._

There was a loud crunch as she took her first bite, noting with pleasure the delicious sweetness, and she kept the alley in her peripheral vision as her eyes danced over the stalls either side of it. People truly were resourceful, she remarked in her mind. Well away from civilisation, with Reapers knocking on their doors every other night, they were deprived of nearly everything city folks like her took for granted - and _still_ they managed to carve a livelihood for themselves.

Eyeing the scavenger vendor to the right of the alley, whose owner was in the midst of grumpily rearranging his wares thanks to an overly indecisive teen, it was then that movement from the alley attracted her vision. Her breath hitched, and the familiar sensation of concern mingled with realisation - she didn't need to see his face. The green jacket was enough.

Her face somewhere between neutral and cringing, she dipped her head and pretended to slowly scratch at her left cheek, whilst murmuring with barely moving lips, "Blondie to Streak, do you copy?"

" _Clear and not so loud - what's up?"_

Her eyes flicked up to the auburn man, whose back was to her as he inspected the scavenger stall. Even his mere presence sent a chill down her spine. "Safe to say the tail is confirmed. Fashion Disaster is opposite me."

" _Yeah, I made them as soon as you left the bench. I'm following Patch right now, looping around to you."_

Rapunzel's incredulity was barely concealed in time - the old lady was bound to be suspicious. "Wait, you _knew?"_

" _Shyeah. These guys are amateurs."_

Her eyes went back up to him, and then to the end of the street. In theory, Patch and Anna would soon be visible. Her eyes went back to Fashion Disaster, who drew his jacket back to reach for something in his left pocket, and the glint of something on his hip reflecting the sun's glorious rays caught her eye.

A seven inch hunting knife. "Streak?"

" _Yep?"_

"He's armed. What do I do?"

Anna's voice was back to its remarkably calm and almost jovial tone, as though her student being tailed by two men, one packing a dangerous weapon, was nothing to worry about. Did she not know that if he attacked, Rapunzel's self-defense reflexes would kick in? Beating the crap out of a guy twice her size would be one hell of a sign saying, ' _I'm here, Unity, come get me!'_

" _First, relax. You're a soldier, so be a soldier. Pretty sure you'd break his arm if he tried to use it."_

Not that she wanted to. She took the ' _do no harm'_ part seriously, leading her to wake up every morning as a Valkyrie, feeling like a prisoner of someone else's skin. Someone who looked, acted and talked like - but wasn't - her. The past few days had her wondering if she would ever be comfortable visiting harm on others.

Especially when she did it to her own kind. She took a breath, and drew on her training. _Cool under pressure,_ her mind reminded her, and she quickly wiped the sweat from her free hand onto her skirt.

" _Second - does he know you've made him?"_

Rapunzel chanced a quick glance - Fashion Disaster was still aimlessly browsing the stall. "I don't think so," she responded.

" _Great. That's important - whoever's following you can't know you've made them. They get desperate and do stupid things. If you make them think they're too sneaky for you, you have control."_

Rapunzel nodded imperceptibly, and closed her eyes as she took a quiet breath. "Okay, so what now?"

" _Now, you need to move. Get up, and casually stroll to the Entertainment Quarter at your one o'clock. Make him think you've got tickets to Captain Unity Two."_

That movie was two years old - just how far behind _was_ this holo-theatre?

Arching a brow with mild bemusement, Rapunzel prepared to rise from the bench - which was when she noticed the old lady. Rather, the way her eyes had been staring longingly at the apple in Rapunzel's right hand, and the way they instantly snapped away to fixate themselves on the dusty ground. Rapunzel stared at her for a few moments, before sighing in pity and curling her lips into a smile, and offered the apple with no further hesitation.

The woman's gaze, attracted by the apple's movement, danced in surprise between it and Rapunzel's warm eyes for a few moments. Rapunzel moved the fruit closer, a silent encouragement. " _It's okay,"_ the gesture said. The lady's brow knitted, and her cracking, wrinkled lower lip found its way between her teeth. A gnarled hand tentatively reached over and plucked the apple. "You are very kind," the wizened woman said with a voice rendered frail by decades of use, "I won't tell them a thing."

Before Rapunzel, whose face had dipped into a wide-eyed but worried frown, could open her mouth to question precisely who ' _them'_ referred to, the woman's emerald eyes flicked pointedly to the bustling patrons further into the street at Rapunzel's right. Following her gaze yielded another sight that sent a flash of tension down the brunette's spine and a further few thumps into her heartbeat - four militia members, three women and one man, stopping random citizens to brandish a data tablet in their faces. A quiet gasp tore its way out of her throat, and she swivelled her gaze back to the old woman - who simply smiled a wry smile and tapped her nose.

"Thank you," Rapunzel blurted with a little too obvious relief.

The old woman slowly shrugged and put on a scarily believable face of childish innocence. "My dear, your act of kindness told me more about you than any Unity newscast could. Run along now, child, and be safe."

Rapunzel took a quiet shuddering breath, and emotion washed up her throat that was barely held back by her struggling restraint. Frost spoke as though no-one in Perdition could be trusted - and to a degree, he was right - so for the woman to both recognise her _and_ swear her silence? Hope blossomed once again. Nodding, Rapunzel smiled her gratitude and rose from the bench.

Tickets to _Captain Unity Two?_ Easy.

She launched into a stroll toward the Entertainment Quarter, taking care to pull the headscarf into a better position for obscurity. Buoyant with optimism, her footfalls carried her out of the marketplace into the Archon's Square - and in the corner of her right eye, a bulky man in a black jacket appeared. An unwelcome sensation settled in the pit of her stomach.

" _Oh, these guys are terrible. Patch practically made a beeline for you."_

Rapunzel tried hard not to look at them, and instead focused herself on the wide ground circling to the right, around the Archon Hall. In the distance, circling the other side of the worn, grey building, two people in blue hooded sweaters walked side by side - the lighter blue one looked familiar. Was it Elsa?

" _You're on the right track - I'm gonna go say hi to Fashion Disaster. Don't turn around."_

Rapunzel nearly committed that very sin when the sound of a surprised grunt caught her ears, like someone had just walked into something and had the wind partially knocked out of them. A struggle of curiosity made that much tougher when Anna's voice mingled with Fashion Disaster's; hers were words of embarrassed apology whilst his voice spoke of gruff dismissal. She kept her curiosity in check; the relief of knowing backup was near would have to do.

Renewed, Rapunzel continued her stroll around the Hall with no great urgency. _You can do this,_ she said to herself in a mental mantra. _You can do this._

Anna chose that moment to chime in with something that didn't help her simmering tension levels. " _I'm gonna loop around the other side of the Hall so they don't get suspicious."_

"But-"

" _Relax, grasshopper. Radio in if you see some militia dudes."_

Rapunzel's face underwent a beautiful transition from a worried frown to an incredulous gape. "You mean the people I should avoid?"

" _Trust me, my young padawan,"_ Anna replied with a theatrical air ill concealed by the radio connection. " _Trust in the Force."_

Rapunzel was so close to throwing her hands into the air in utter confusion - it was one thing for her to suggest looking for militia on her path; it was quite another for Anna to throw yet another curveball with whatever this ' _force'_ was. "You are so _weird._ Blondie out."

The Archon Hall soon gave way to the Entertainment Quarter, containing a mismatched array of buildings in varying degrees of construction. Rapunzel's memory of the labels on the map recalled a few bars, a holo-theatre, a holo-library, and several other places of entertainment value. Ahead of her at the very tip of the Quarter, closest to the hall, was situated an outdoor board game section - a quick scan of the scant occupants engaging in the games yielded another sight that made her smile.

Clad in a dark green hooded sweater and wearing what looked like a hoverball cap, a thoroughly bored-looking Astrid caught her eye, her head supported by a brave right hand in danger of giving up. The cap's peak dipped once - Rapunzel replied with a subtle thumbs-up.

Her journey carried her past the games section and into the Quarter proper. Far less populated than the marketplace, its patrons amounted to a few families walking in the opposite direction, presumably toward the marketplace for lunch. A little boy held onto the hand of his father, whilst his other little hand clutched a faded blue comfort blanket as his eyes shyly took in the world around him. Two girls belonging to a family just behind them engaged themselves in a game of tag around their parents - or rather, one kept tapping the other on the shoulder and running away, only for her older sister to act largely uninterested in her younger sibling's antics.

So focused was she on the two children, smiling at their innocent games, that she failed to notice the door to a ramshackle, single-storey building less than ten metres away burst open until it was too late. A young girl charged out, cackling as she victoriously held a dirty, old doll aloft, and was promptly chased by a small boy of a similar age, his face wracked with horror whilst tears streamed down his eyes.

"Give Sandwa back!" the boy cried. "You're a mean bully!"

As she tore her way towards Rapunzel, the girl threw him a look over her shoulder - and despite coming to a skidding stop, Rapunzel's legs felt the gentle impact of the young girl colliding with them. The doll tumbled from her hand.

"Sowwy Miss!" the little girl said, not even sounding like she was sorry at all.

Chuckling, Rapunzel crouched to pick up the doll just as the girl sped off past her. Dark linen made up the face under her thumb, and yellow floral cotton formed the doll's long dress. It only had one black button for an eye, and the thin stitching of the lips had frayed to the point the doll looked like she was grimacing.

Still, to the boy gazing at her with pleading eyes, she was _precious._

"Here you go," Rapunzel said warmly, handing the doll to him.

The boy snatched 'Sandwa' from her hand and, making Rapunzel internally ' _squee',_ huddled the doll into the crook of his neck and clamped his arms protectively around it, his upper body rotating as though soothing poor 'Sandwa' away from her ordeal.

"Thankoo, Miss," he muttered quietly, and as the mother passed Rapunzel with a quiet murmur of gratitude, the boy fell in step with his mother's legs. Smiling, she watched the mother and child walk away from them in the direction she had been coming from, remarking that even if the world around them was in a state of ruin - a child's spirit could never be diminished.

She didn't realise she had broken the cardinal rule of losing a tail - don't look back… until her eyes were automatically attracted to movement near the small information hut she passed a few moments earlier. Movement from two men with obscenely large chins - one with an eye-patch, one in a green jacket.

Who was staring right back at her.

"Crap," she murmured, feeling her stomach drop to her feet like a sack of unidium ingots. Their eyes locked with each other, both wearing the same expression of blank realisation. Now they knew. Patch's lips, adorned by a vicious vertical scar, peeled back into a sneering grimace. Disaster's heavily sideburned cheeks, one of which sported an equally long scar, tautened as his right finger fell away from the noticeboard he had been pretending to inspect.

_Welp, cat's out of the bag._

His jacket moved on the left side - peaking just behind him. There was only one thing he could be going for.

Rapunzel turned, and quickly walked the way she was headed, her heart thundering in her chest. Everything in her mind threatened to go out of the window, held back only by her training and conditioning. _Focus,_ she commanded to herself.

"Blondie to Streak, please say you copy," she said.

" _I'm here - what's up? You sound a little-"_

"They made me."

Anna's voice instantly changed from the relatively light and casual tones she had been using until that point - with one exception - to a deadly serious cadence. " _They made you? How?"_

"Does it matter?" Rapunzel hissed. "They know I know they're following me. Did I mention one of them is armed?"

" _And did I not mention you're a soldier? Relax, grasshopper. It's all good. Just do exactly what I say - do you see any militia near you?"_

Rapunzel's face underwent an incredulous wince. Her eyes went up to the street ahead, now relatively deserted, and she tried with difficulty to ignore the sensation of the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention. She searched every doorway, every gap between the buildings, every window - until two burly looking men sporting beards that would make Captain Bludvist envious emerged from the doorway of a ramshackle bar on the opposite side of the street, thirty metres away.

"I see two."

" _Do they look serious, and do they have data tablets?"_

Still bewildered as to Anna's line of questioning, Rapunzel's eyes did a rapid once-over of their bodies as they leisurely strolled in the opposite direction. Their hands animatedly waved as they engaged themselves in light conversation, and whatever that entailed was lighthearted. Not a data tablet in sight. "Negative on both," she answered.

" _Great. Here's what I want you to do…"_

Under Anna's direction, confusing and outright surprising as it was, Rapunzel instantly diverted her path toward them. Her brisk walk turned into a light jog, and she adopted as much of a worried expression on her face as possible - an easy task, given the circumstances. The leftmost militia member was the first to notice her approach; with an arm reaching out to halt his comrade, he regarded Rapunzel with a concerned frown.

"Can I help you, Miss?" he asked as soon as she caught up to them.

With faint breathlessness thanks to the abrupt jog, Rapunzel took a moment to look back at the two men following her - hilariously, both had turned a sharp left and busied themselves with the sign outside the building the young children sprinted out - a kindergarten.

"Miss? Are you okay?"

Rapunzel's head whirled back, eyes wide with worry. "Please help me - there are two men following me. I saw one of them steal a necklace from a stall on the market street - but I think they know I saw them. I've tried to get away, but they won't leave me alone. One of them has a knife - I'm scared they're gonna hurt me!"

" _Nice!"_ Anna chimed in over the earpiece.

The brows of the militia members instantly dipped into a scowling triangle as they moved their eyes to look over her - an easy feat, given their ten inch height advantage. With a gruff voice not unlike a rockslide, the second member asked, "These men, does one of them have an eye patch, and does the other-"

"A green jacket! That's them! Please, help-"

"Don't you worry, Miss," the first member said - though his voice he must have intended to sound reassuring, the manner in which he was glaring daggers at Patch and Disaster undid any comfort Rapunzel was supposed to feel. "We'll take care of them. When you're feeling better, please visit the Precinct to make a statement."

Rapunzel barely had time to breathe her reply of, "I will, thank you!" before the two members swept past, a small breeze and the smell of synth-gin and pungent body-odor following in their wake.

Curious, she turned to watch the show unfold - having realised what was happening, Patch and Disaster exchanged quick looks of worry and immediately launched into a quick jog back the way they came.

" _Psst. I'm at your one o'clock."_

The militia members yelled at Patch and Disaster to stop and surged into a sprint just as Rapunzel looked in that direction - true enough, there she was, stood in the small gap between two hopelessly built buildings. Leaning against the nearby wall, Anna beckoned her over with her left hand whilst her right popped something into her smirking mouth.

Rapunzel quickly jogged over to her, casting a glance back to the scene. Patch and Disaster were busy losing ground to the militia as they sprinted away. "What just happened?"

Anna let loose a dark, impish chuckle. "Last resort of losing a tail - sic the law on 'em."

Shooting her a shocked look, Rapunzel took in a sharp breath. "You mean I accused two innocent people of a crime, just to get away from them?"

Another dark chuckle, this time carrying an element of knowing - and more than a little satisfaction. "Oh, they're not innocent. Well, they are of stealing the necklace, but they're not innocent," she said, before popping another peanut into her mouth.

Rapunzel looked back at the chase - which spectacularly ended with both men being viciously tackled to the ground, kicking dust around them while passers-by, despite their curiosity, swerved a wide berth whilst watching the scene unfold. The left hand of the man Rapunzel spoke to dove into the outside left pocket of Disaster's jacket - and subsequently pulled out something that glimmered in the sun's light. Disaster immediately yelled that he'd never seen that before and struggled against the militia member's pinning of him.

Anna let out a wry chortle. "That's it. Writhe, little man."

"Okay." Rapunzel had enough. She threw her hands halfway up into the air and let them flop back down onto her hips whilst giving Anna an incredulous stare. "The whole padawan, grasshopper and Force thing was confusing enough, but you are taking _way_ too much pleasure in this. What are you not telling me?"

Anna's eyes moved to rest on hers, and there was a knowing twinkle in them that didn't help her discomfort about the whole situation. "You remember the body of the teenager we found in Des Moines?"

Rapunzel's gaze fell - the sight had been a regular visitor of her mind's eye. Such brutality and hate - especially for being what he was - consistently sent a nauseous chill down into her stomach. Had they arrived hours earlier, she could have _saved_ him. It would mean disobeying Elsa's direct order and revealing her own gifts… but as the days went on, Rapunzel was finding it harder and harder to justify to herself why she should conceal them. "How could I forget…" she murmured.

"Well," Anna continued whilst chewing another peanut, "early this morning Pitch went on a little intel gathering mission to find out who was responsible. Those two guys are called the Stabbington Brothers - and they're the ones who beat that poor kid to death."

Rapunzel gave her a wide-eyed, shocked look, her mouth wide open in a gape. "Wait - I had two murderers following me?! When were you going to tell me?"

Anna's lips curled into a lopsided wince. Her eyes radiated apology. "We wanted to, but we couldn't."

"Yes, you could! I think I had a right to know if-"

She broke off. How did Pitch know if the Stabbington Brothers were responsible, how did they know to follow her unless…?

"You used me," she said, her voice hollow with realisation.

Anna scoffed. "No, we didn't."

"Yes, you did. Pitch paid those men to follow me, knowing what they did. Was this-" she gestured to the scuffle, as the Brothers were dragged away in cuffs, "-part of the plan? To have them follow me so you could get them arrested?" Her face fell, her shoulders sagged. "I thought the Ghosts were different… but you used me like Unity did."

There was a second where Rapunzel could swear Anna's eyes sparked into flame. Her face twisted into a furious scowl, her chest rose and fell with an evident struggle to control, and for a few moments Rapunzel wished she said nothing. Anna's head swivelled round to peer down the street for a second before dragging Rapunzel further into the gap, out of sight.

She immediately yanked off her hood and brandished a finger. "Now, you listen 'cause I am _really_ trying hard not to punch you in the face for saying that, after what Unity did to me and my kind," she hissed through gritted teeth.

Rapunzel stood her ground. "I'm listening," she said tonelessly.

"One; if we told you those guys would follow you, you'd have acted differently. You'd have panicked. These guys are amateurs, but they're not stupid - they'd have figured you made them long before you even walked into the marketplace. You needed to learn what to do in case it was an _Inquisitor_ following you, not a pair of gorillas with brains smaller than their balls."

"But you put me in danger."

Anna put on her best impression of _are-you-kidding-me._ She spread her hands and turned a little in both directions. "We are _all_ in danger, here. I'm in danger, right now, while we're having this discussion. Anyone finds out what I am, I could be dragged into the Hall square and lynched. Your friends mess up, they'll be on Unity's radar - and so will we. My friends are taking a _huge_ risk on you and your friends, right now - so don't talk to me about danger." When Rapunzel opened her mouth to protest, she then added, "For the record? If those two knuckle-draggers even _thought_ about getting fresh, I'd have dropped them like a bad habit before they even knew what hit them. Teaching and protecting you are my orders, and I take my orders _seriously."_

Anna spoke with such fire and conviction that Rapunzel was temporarily deprived of a response. The idea that the two men were paid to follow her in the first place left a bad taste in her mouth, a taste made even fouler by their culpability in a heinous crime. Surely they could have had someone _else_ follow her? Could not one of the Ghosts acted as a tail? She folded her arms and frowned at one of the severely chipped bricks making up the wall behind Anna whilst she chewed her lip.

Yet, a good part of her was won over by Anna's vehement declaration of her safety. Whether she liked it or not, it made sense; if she knew they would be following her, the compulsions to turn and look would have been impossible to resist - she was just _that_ curious. If one of the Ghosts followed her, either she would not have seen them - as proved by Anna - or she would have been overly complacent about the whole thing.

There was a sigh, catching her attention. Anna's right thumb and forefinger met the bridge of her nose, and her eyes were closed with exasperation. "Look, I'm sorry for going off on you like that." She pocketed her hands, and regarded Rapunzel with sincere eyes. "When I heard you say we were no different to Unity, I saw red. All I could think about was my husband, my home… I guess I'm not doing so well."

"No, you're not," Rapunzel said, causing Anna's brows to lightly dip, "but then again, neither am I. So… I totally get you."

Anna curled a lopsided smile. "I meant what I said - I had your back… which sounds _so_ weird when you think about everything that happened before."

Rapunzel snorted into a sardonic, brief chuckle. "You're telling me." Noticing the lack of vocal activity in the street, she inclined her head in the vague direction of the recent arrest. "What happens to them?"

Quirking her lips sideways, Anna's brow rose in knowing. "The law in Perdition takes stealing seriously, so they're probably gonna be cooling their heels in jail for a _long_ time."

"What if they mention Pitch? What about the statement I'm probably not going to make? Won't that make things hard for you guys?"

Anna scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. "Nah," she said with startling lack of concern, "not at all. The law'll just assume you were too freaked out to go to the precinct, and I doubt they're gonna believe they were told to follow you by some hooded guy in a bar. With the necklace I slipped into his jacket when I bumped into him, plus them being caught following you, they're going away for a while." She brought up her hands and, smirking, wiggled her fingers. "I'm great with my hands."

Somehow, Rapunzel didn't doubt that. "So the teenager still gets justice, even if it's not for his murder. I like it - but I still don't know whether to hit you or high-five you."

Anna giggled. "Sounds like a normal day for me." She drew her hood back over her head and nodded toward the street. "C'mon. We've gotta swing by a scavenger stall on the way home. Frost wants paper and a pencil…" she trailed off, shaking her head with bemusement, "does he even _know_ how hard that is to find these days?"

* * *

 

"Well, it's gonna be dark in about fifteen minutes, and… not yet. He should be here soon. You coming back soon? Okay. Streak out."

Intending to get Anna's attention, Rapunzel knocked on the wall of the hallway just before it opened into the living room. Sat at the dinner table, Anna looked up from the mess of items spread around the circular wooden surface - what the items were, Rapunzel couldn't quite make out thanks to the dim light emanating from the ceiling, and the dying natural light pouring through the windows.

"Hey, Blondie. Sorry, was just checking on Frost. 'Sup?"

Rapunzel shrugged. "Nothing, just got bored in my room. Where is everybody?"

Anna gestured with her head toward the front door. "Frost went for a run, and Elsa's in her room - _again_. Has been since they got back. Night Fury and Astrid are on their way home, and Pitch and Merida will head back in about an hour."

Rapunzel pocketed her hands, hummed, "Okay," and her eyes travelled down to the cascade atop the table. "Whatcha doing?"

"Huh?" Anna followed her gaze and then glanced at the two packets in each hand. "Oh, I'm doing an inventory of our medical supplies. It's a good habit to get into - especially when we've gotta watch what we use."

"Okay," Rapunzel said, and dipped her head toward the table, "Need a hand?"

Anna smiled. "Sure. Pull up a chair."

Rapunzel grinned and did just that. Scooting the chair closer to the table, she rested her hands palms down and waited patiently to begin. "Okay," Anna said, "let's start with what I'm pretty sure we _do_ have. How many rolls of surgical tape we got?"

Rapunzel scanned the table, her eyes dancing over each item placed with alarming lack of order, until with a quiet cry of, "Aha!" she picked them up. "We've got two rolls—well, one and a half," she declared, frowning at the infinitely smaller roll.

"I'll put 'em in the case." Anna held open a hand, and slipped them into the red zip-up medical pouch. "Better than I thought."

The inventory proceeded in much the same way, with Anna calling out a specific item, and Rapunzel announcing whether it was there, and how many there were. With each part of the kit being reeled off, Rapunzel felt increasingly alarmed at both at how pitiful their supplies were, and Anna's relative lack of worry. Did she not care that what the kit contained would get any Unity medic in serious trouble for neglect?

"Morphine?" she asked, and then added, "Don't tell me. Nada."

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner," Rapunzel said, aghast. "This is _awful._ How did you guys survive?"

Anna shrugged. "You're a medic too, right?" When Rapunzel nodded affirmatively, Anna lazily gestured at her with a cellular regenerator pen. "Same way you did - triage. Work out the boo-boos from the holy-craps, and see if they need a bandage or can make do with a band-aid. Anaesthetic or deal-with-it."

As her eyes went to the pen, she noticed something glimmering halfway down its surface. "Huh. Quarter battery - guess we'll save you for special occasions," she sighed, and then reunited it with its comrades in the kit.

"But what happened if you didn't have the right stuff?" Rapunzel asked in dismay as she handed her a roll of bandage cloth.

"Improvised."

When Rapunzel tilted her head and frowned, Anna leaned forward with her elbows on the table, and explained, "Night Fury once caught some shrapnel in his side from an exploding _Einherjar_. I pulled the shard out-" she opened her left hand, and a tiny flame appeared over her palm, "-and cauterized it myself."

Rapunzel didn't know whether to wince in vicarious pain, or cringe in disgust. "Oh, man, that's awful."

Anna quirked her lips and hummed her dry agreement. "Ayup. When my sister gave Frost that lovely memento, I had to stitch him up without anaesthetic. Don't worry," she hastily said upon noticing Rapunzel's horror, "he got around that by using his powers to numb the surrounding skin, and covered it with thin ice to keep it from being infected when it wasn't bandaged."

She looked down with glazed eyes and frowned sadly. Her hands fiddled with each other. "I just wish I knew how to heal Night Fury's partial deafness."

Rapunzel was about to attempt a selfish pry into that particular development when, as if on cue, the door banged with the pre-assigned set of knocks before swinging open. Astrid stormed in, wearing a hearty scowl that looked like it was out of severe petulance. Anna looked curiously at Night Fury when he, comparatively more sedately, followed her in.

"Hey," Rapunzel began, "what's the-"

"Don't wanna talk about it," Astrid snapped on her way to her bedroom.

Both women cast quizzical looks at Night Fury, who shrugged whilst wearing an almighty cringe. "She lost the bonus round," he said.

There was a yell of, "I didn't lose!" a second before the house shook with the slam of a door.

Rapunzel and Anna exchanged bemused looks. Night Fury then mentioned missing Toothless, returning to the barn, and not poking the dragon, and promptly scooted out of the house.

"O...kay," Anna said. "By ' _dragon',_ did he mean Toothless, or Astrid?

"Astrid," Rapunzel said without missing a beat. "She's _very_ competitive."

"I kinda put that together." Anna zipped up the medkit and slid it to the middle of the table. "I'll let Frost know we inventoried the kit."

"Cool! I had fun," Rapunzel said, her lips tugging into a grin. "Well, without the queasy stuff."

"Me too. Thanks for the help." Anna smiled - a genuine smile, to Rapunzel's surprise - and lightly punched her in the upper arm. "So, I gotta ask - what was my sister like? Drill Sergeant?"

Rapunzel's face dropped to accompany a theatrically loud groan, and for dramatic emphasis, flopped into the chair. She stared at Anna as though a decade's worth of weariness had overcome her. "You have _no_ idea."

Anna smirked, and propped her head up with a fist whilst she regarded Rapunzel with amused interest. "This I gotta hear."

So, Rapunzel launched into a lengthy recollection of Valkyrie boot camp and training; how Elsa woke them at random hours for runs around the training field, how hypothetical Ghost attacks were simulated - usually during lunch - and how Astrid was the one most ordered to ' _drop and give Snow Queen twenty'._ She had two levels of volume; quiet, and deafening, and even when her team was exhausted, she still pushed them into sparring fights. Even the toughest instructors gave her a wide berth.

Anna was so engrossed, she barely responded when a breathless Frost returned, gave them both a curt nod, and flopped onto the couch to recover.

"My sister, the taskmaster," Anna wryly murmured. "I'd be surprised, except I'm _not_."

Rapunzel offered little more than a knowing chuckle, and dropped her eyes to gaze thoughtfully at the medkit pouch. Her smile slowly fell to a thin line; since visiting Perdition, and seeing the old woman, the desire to come clean was becoming more and more difficult to resist. Why should she deny who she was when she was around people like her? Why should Elsa dictate whether the Ghosts knew? It wasn't fair to keep secret what she was at the behest of someone terrified of their _own_ gifts - a belief especially strengthened after seeing the appalling state of the Ghosts' medkit. She could do some good, some _actual_ good. She could take off some of the pressure resting on Anna to keep her team alive. She could become who she knew she could be.

"You okay there, Blondie?" she heard Anna ask in a concerned voice.

She looked up at her, eyes dancing between fear and resolve. Maybe they would be angry. Maybe Frost would be _furious._ Maybe Anna wouldn't talk to her for a few days… but at that moment, after working together and getting on so well, she felt like Anna was a kindred spirit, with the art of healing and grief of a lost love their common ground. She would _understand._

"I…" Rapunzel began, awkward and hesitant tremors in her voice, "have something to tell you."

Anna shifted forward and leaned toward her with a face of curious concern. "What?"

Rapunzel opened her mouth, her eyes unable to move anywhere else from Anna's gaze. It was now or never. That moment could change _everything._

It was worth it. It _had_ to be. She could make their fight so much easier.

"I… I have-"

The front door burst open with a resounding clatter, throwing Rapunzel's confession straight out of her mind. Startled, both women whirled their heads to the door, whilst Frost practically leaped from the couch with a surprised, "Whoa!"

Merida stood in the doorway, her usually rosy face pale with fear and panic - but it was who she was practically holding upright that sent a chill down Rapunzel's spine. With a crimson mess matting his hair and seeping down the left side of his face, and slumping into Merida with his eyes half closed… was Pitch.

"Please, ye have ta help him!"


	44. Perdition III: Of Passion and Ingenuity

 

* * *

**"Perdition III: Of Passion and Ingenuity"**

Astrid didn't do a lot of watching in her life. Watching implied sitting still. Using eyes not hands. Unless it was a Media Stream show or a movie rerun, she wasn't interested. She preferred to _do,_ not see. Act first, questions later.

Which was why, when Night Fury told her they'd be playing a few games of chess while watching the world go by, she wondered if he had a screw loose and needed it punching back in. She _hated_ chess.

As it turned out, he was perfectly serious, so Astrid found herself sat at a chess table in the Entertainment Quarter, in the midst of an internal battle; one side was slowly losing the will to stay awake - and live, thoroughly bored to distraction by the game of patience and planning. The other was frustrated and furious, since the shaggy-haired man had won _six games in a row._ Six. She hadn't performed that poorly since her temper-management sessions at the _Staging Ground_. In fact, judging by the faint smirk on his lips she'd been scowling at every other minute, he was due to claim his seventh victory. Astrid didn't _lose._

And like hell was she going to lose out on the bonus objective of spotting Elsa.

"...and checkmate."

Astrid's eyes went down to the worn, faded chessboard with mismatched squares and decidedly non-uniformed pieces. True enough, her king was pinned in the corner by Night Fury's queen, knight and rook. She slammed down the tumbler of water she'd been sipping from, causing a minor spillage, and she glared at him through her eyebrows. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Night Fury smiled an awkward smile, and stroked the back of his head. "No! Well, I… yeah. A little."

Astrid grunted and rolled her eyes. "You're lucky this isn't hoverball, 'cause I'd be handing _you_ your ass," she said, barely fluctuating in tone before sipping from her water.

Night Fury chortled, and quickly adjusted the brim of his cap before beginning the task of repositioning the chess pieces. At one stage, Astrid had elected to simply take as many of his pieces as she could. He still won. "Oh, I'm pretty sure you would be. I'm useless at hoverball."

Astrid frowned with a mild gape. "Seriously? Hoverball's easy."

Snorting, Night Fury gave her a sarcastic look whilst he lined up his pawns. "Yeah - if you're not a talking fishbone. Which I was."

"What?" Astrid recoiled, less out of disgust and more out of sheer surprise.

"Yep. I was-" his hands gestured to approximate the size of a _very_ scrawny child, "-kinda like that. Pretty much consigned me to being picked last." He shrugged, pulling an indifferent face. "Not that I cared much."

"But…" Astrid trailed off, waving a loose hand as though summing up his physique. Having had her arms around him whilst riding possibly the coolest animal imaginable - second only to Stormfly - she'd gained an approximation of his body shape. Fishbone he was _not._

Frost's dimensions, but slightly wider.

He cocked an eyebrow and shot her an amused look. "Well, there's this funny thing called puberty…"

Astrid scowled, and her right boot lashed out before she even thought. It hit what she assumed to be his left shin, though he offered no reaction to the kick. She figured she needn't have bothered - she wasn't physically much different when she was younger. Skinny, fast, but a terror on the hoverball field.

Now she was tall, fast, toned and a terror on the battlefield.

If there even _was_ a battlefield.

"So when are we gonna get to this situational awareness thing?" she asked, figuring there were only so many games she could play before she used the pieces as projectile ammunition.

Night Fury took a sip from his beaker, and his eyes crinkled in such a way that told her he was smiling. "You're already doing it."

Astrid frowned her second, "What?" of the hour.

"You've lost the last seven games, and each time you lost, you-"

She glared at him.

"- _reacted badly._ Pretty sure you're a lady that doesn't like to lose, so if you _were_ paying attention to the game, you'd've won a few. So you're more interested in what's going on around you, at least, subconsciously," he finished, far more awkwardly than he'd started.

She half-smirked at him. "Doesn't that mean you're _not_ paying attention, as you've been winning?"

It was his turn to smirk. "I can tell you the lady at the drinks counter has a thing for you 'cause she keeps sneaking looks at you, and looking away when someone notices. I can tell you the two guys playing checkers over there-" he subtly pointed to the table fifteen feet to her left, "-are packing heat, so they're probably off-duty militia. I can also tell you that the best way for us to exit would be the way we came, as it's a clear line for us but everyone else has to dodge tables."

Her mouth slowly opened in amazement. "How did you know all that?"

Night Fury gently shrugged, and scratched at a burgeoning five-day growth. "Lots of practise."

"And that's what I'm going to learn?"

"Yep." He threw her an excited grin whilst one of his hands worked to replace the pieces to their starting positions. "Cool, huh?"

She couldn't help shooting a quick glance at the drinks counter - sure enough, the woman working behind it blushed and immediately feigned deep interest in wiping the already spotless glass in her hands. "That is pretty cool."

Returning her gaze to Night Fury, she asked, "So, how do I do that?"

"Well-" he finished lining up the non-pawns "-your first step is to establish an environmental baseline."

"A what?"

"It's what's normal for wherever you are. What you expect goes on around you - once you do that, then you'll be able to notice what's not normal. Things that should be there, but aren't, or things that shouldn't be there, but are." He hunched over his edge of the table, one hand free to gesture. "You walk through a forest, you expect to hear birds. The wind through the leaves."

Astrid was instantly taken back to the forest near the family home… and Stormfly. "Sticks cracking under my feet..." she said in a wistful murmur.

Night Fury smiled. "Bingo - so if you hear the sudden flight of a flock of birds, or their alarm calls, you know something's up." He returned to his task. "What would be the baseline for where we are?"

Astrid thought for a moment. It was busy in Perdition, as the journey through the market had proven. People were bustling to and fro, deep in animated conversation, dressed in rags barely classed as clothing. Militia and clones conducting unhurried patrol routes. "Your garden variety settlement, I guess?" she answered after a while. "Lots of people all talking, maybe the odd hover car. Semi-loud background noise."

"Good. What about the citizens themselves?"

Astrid stroked lines on her lips, her eyes dancing between citizens as they passed. "Dirty, old clothing. Hair's pretty messy and uncut, or cut badly."

Night Fury sat back and took a sip. "Great. Now, with that in mind, have a sneaky look around where we are while you arrange your pieces. Anything stick out?"

Astrid looked at him for a few seconds, before doing exactly that. Whilst she lined up her pawns, her eyes danced rapid glances around the games section, taking every possible detail into account. The woman behind the bar avoided her eyes once more, and ducked under the counter for something. The two men playing checkers talked in hushed voices, one lamenting the serious thrashing he was taking. The other, as Night Fury said, was indeed armed - the barrel of a stun pistol poked out from under his jacket. A man and a woman sat three tables behind Night Fury, engaged in their own game of chess - Astrid's eyes narrowed slightly, and she hesitated. There was something odd about them, something she couldn't put her finger on.

"You got something?"

Astrid's eyes lingered upon them for a few more seconds, before feigning interest in arranging the other pieces. "Male and female at your six," she said in a hushed voice.

Night Fury's hand delved into his pocket to pull out something he subsequently popped into his mouth. "Okay. Tell me about them."

She took a quick glance at them once more. "They're dressed like settlement citizens, but they're not."

"How do you know?"

One more glance, and it finally clicked why the two people were raising red flags. "Their hair. Every other person in this place has hair like they need a wash… but the male's hair is short and clean whilst the female's is in a shiny ponytail."

"Okay." Night Fury moved his pawn forward. "What does that all mean?"

"They can't be militia, they're too clean-cut. They can't be military, 'cause I know for a fact they wouldn't bother with hanging around settlements and playing chess, so that leaves…"

The same word was uttered at the same time, though only Astrid seemed to feel the clawing of unease in the pit of her stomach. Night Fury looked unfazed. "Inquisitors."

He gestured for her to make a move, so she half-heartedly slid a pawn across. "Made them as soon as we walked in, same way you did," he said.

She looked at him with mild disbelief. "And that doesn't bother you?"

He gave her a blank look. "Should it?"

Were it not for the idea that she should not draw attention to herself, Astrid would have thrown her hands into the air and then whapped him upside his head. For now, she had to settle with thinking he _definitely_ had a screw loose. "Well, yeah! The Unifier's secret police is right behind you!" she hissed.

Night Fury merely shrugged. "And as far as they're concerned, we're just two random citizens playing a game of chess, just like they are-" he paused for a snigger "-except you're losing more games than them."

Astrid shot him an offended glare and once again kicked his leg. Just like before, he offered no reaction, just a wry smirk.

"Okay. That's it." She had enough. The guy was getting weirder by the second, and frankly, she was becoming more annoyed by all her confusion. "I just kicked you twice and you didn't even wince. What gives? You some kinda robot, or…?"

He chuckled in amusement, before sliding another pawn across. "You're half right - you've been kicking my cybernetic leg. Technically, I'm a cyborg." Boyish excitement glimmered in his eyes. "Which sounds awesome to say."

What was it about him that confused her so? She thought she had everyone pegged, but Night Fury was taking her by surprise just by being him. Not to mention the contrast between him and the last ' _cyborg'_ she met couldn't be more clear. Captain Bludvist was full of rage and malevolence, Night Fury radiated a relaxed confidence with a little boyish optimism thrown in.

"How did you lose your leg?" she asked before her brain registered anything, then mentally admonished her brain for not being fast enough to stop such a personal question.

However, if Night Fury was put out, he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed to find it humorous. "Reaper stole my lunch. Went to find it and get it back - long story short, there's a Reaper somewhere out there using my leg as a backscratcher."

Astrid stared blankly at him for a few seconds, before the morbid mental image was too much to handle. She cracked up into sniggers deftly covered by her hand, whilst Night Fury looked back at her in wounded faux-offense.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Make fun of my disability," he groaned.

"Sorry!" she forced out mid-snigger, "It's just that… maybe you and the Reaper got off on the wrong foot?"

Night Fury rolled his eyes. "Good one. Never heard _that_ one before."

"I guess I'm toeing the line of originality."

He gave her an unimpressed look. "...seriously? That was terrible."

Her body still jerking with stifled laughter, she said, "Yeah, that was pretty bad."

"Oh, it was awful-" he gestured for her to move. "-but as the purveyor of puns as bad as Frost's, I don't really have a leg to stand on."

That was the moment Astrid fully lost her composure, and were it not for the idea they were not to attention to themselves, she nearly threw her head back in laughter. Covering her face in her hands, she silently jerked with mirth. How good it felt to laugh - and how was it he made her laugh in the first place?

Night Fury quietly hushed her, shooting furtive glances around the room. "C'mon, it wasn't _that_ funny!"

Astrid waited until the humour died down - and so she could keep a straight face, despite a small smile curling her lips - and looked at him with a kind of amused bewilderment. "You are the weirdest guy ever."

"I'll try not to take that personally."

She subtly waved off the comment. "No, I mean… I thought I had everyone pegged but… you surprise me."

Night Fury frowned and tilted his head. "Good way, or bad?"

Her smile fell to a line, and her eyes studied him. "I'm not sure."

Night Fury cracked a goofy smirk, and leaned a little over the chessboard. "Oh, c'mon. You can't leave me on a cliffhanger."

Exhaling a quiet breath through her nose, Astrid picked up a knight and watched her fingers rotate it over and over. "When Frost decided the Ghosts were gonna take us on, I expected some kind of hostility. I understood why, and I wasn't disappointed - especially from Pitch."

"Okay."

She moved the knight in an L shape. "What I don't get is… there's zero hostility from you. You made me laugh, and you're talking to me like we're…"

She couldn't say it. Such a term seemed so outlandish, so bizarre that her mind refused to let her lips pass the word by. A Ghost and an ex-Valkyrie?

"Friends?"

Night Fury seemed to hold no such qualms. The word rolled off his tongue as easy as rainwater down a roof, and Astrid perceived no hesitation. Friends. Could it be? She looked up at him.

Sure, Merida and Rapunzel, and to a degree Elsa were her friends, but it was more of a sisterhood. Bonds forged by fire, violence and flame. It was different. She never had a proper _friend_ before, other than Stormfly.

Slowly, she nodded. "Why?"

Night Fury's smirk fell to a half-smile, and he moved his bishop. "When Frost took you to see the graves, he didn't do it to be a dick. He did it, because we needed to gauge your reactions, to know if you were telling the truth about everything."

"And what did you see?"

"Remorse," he answered without pause. "Genuine, honest remorse. The kind of guilt and regret you can't fake. I've seen that look once before, so that's how I know you can be trusted."

She frowned, tilting her head. "You trust us?"

Night Fury ixnayed that with a simple wave of his hand. "I didn't say that. Bad things happened to our kind, things that your team spearheaded, so I totally understand and agree with why my friends are uneasy about you - but I reckon somewhere down the line, we probably _could_ trust you."

"It'd be nice for someone to believe in me, for once," she murmured, looking down at the board whilst she took his bishop.

"Sorry?"

Astrid looked up at him, with his left ear turned toward her. "I said-" she adjusted her position, rolling her shoulders back, "-what else do I need to know?"

"Oh!" Night Fury leaned back. "Okay, well, you already did some of this next bit with the Vanishers behind me, but now we're going to test your memory and attention to detail. I want you to take a good look around this place for about ten seconds, and then I'll quiz you. Ready?"

She nodded.

"Go."

And she did. Turning her head the smallest inch, she did most of the moving with her eyes. She attempted to commit every single snapshot to her mind, trying to build a mental image of the games section.

"Okay," Night Fury said abruptly, leading her to conclude that it was the fastest ten seconds on earth - and note somewhat sardonically that it wasn't the first time she thought that, "the point of this little exercise is so you can learn to automatically take stock of your surroundings. Threats, number of exits, people. That way if something does change, you'll know what and where. Now, close your eyes."

She looked up at him. "What?"

He chuckled lightly. "It's okay."

She studied him for a few more seconds, then eventually decided to humour him. She closed her eyes - at least she would be able to hear him leaving her alone… like everyone else.

"Okay, let's start easy. Do you remember how many exits there were?"

Two. The one behind her, and another at the opposite side of the section. She answered as much.

"Good start. How many people other than us?"

She counted in her mind; the two militia, the woman behind the counter, the two Inquisitors, plus three other people at the far side. "Eight."

And so, the questions carried on. Night Fury would fire off a question, she would answer, and some she got right, others wrong. However, as the minutes dragged on her concentration was dwindling, and the mental picture of the games section was starting to decay before her mind's eye. Coupled with the increasingly difficult questions, like how many bottles there were on the counter, or the colour of the socks worn by the militia member with the pistol.

"Red-no, blue!" she had answered, to which he had replied with quite possibly one of the oddest remarks ever.

"Lucky you're not sat on an ejector seat, otherwise you'd have been thrown into a chasm."

It was a reference to an old pre-war movie, she then learned once she looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

Unfortunately, for such a competitive woman driven to succeed, her frustration at the fifth wrong answer in a row built and built, until it spilled over into a hiss of, "Dammit!" once she was corrected.

"Hey, hey!" Night Fury said, attempting some form of reassurance, "Don't stress, you're doing great!"

Astrid bitterly snorted, rolling her eyes. "Sure. I was getting them all wrong."

"Yeah, and before that you were nailing the basics and even doing good on the intermediate stuff. S'why I asked you the more advanced questions - figured I'd see how you did."

She looked at him. "Seriously?"

Night Fury nodded with a reassuring smile. "Yep. So if you wanna get angry at someone, get angry at me."

Frustration built inside her, not from the memory game's surprise difficulty increase, but from something else. Him.

"Why?"

He scratched under the hair at the side of his head. "Well… because I made it harder-"

"No," she abruptly cut him off, "why are you not angry at me?"

"I already told you," he gave her a funny look. She shook her head a little too vigorously.

"Not what I meant. Night Fury… we destroyed your _home._ We massacred your friends, your family. Hell, I nearly killed Pitch, if it wasn't for some kid shooting at me." She stared at him, at a complete loss. "Even if you saw what you saw, you should be hating me… but you're being the nicest anyone's ever been to me. Why?"

She wanted to understand. She _needed_ to. If she could peg someone, she knew how to keep them at arm's length, how to protect herself from them.

Night Fury adjusted his position and leaned on the table, gazing unblinkingly and with patience. "Okay firstly - I don't think the Purge, and the destruction of my home was your fault. What I saw at the graves were the faces of four people looking at something they never meant to happen - so that tells me you're a good person that chose the wrong path for whatever reason, but didn't understand just where that path was leading." He took a sip of water - it seemed helping her to understand was thirsty work. "Did you try to kill Pitch? Yes. Did you want to kill three hundred innocent people and sink a ship?"

He paused for a moment to study her, his eyes travelling over every inch of her face. It was like he was peering into her soul - she felt vulnerable. Exposed. Uneasy.

"I look at you now, and I'm certain the answer is no." He then shrugged and took another sip, as though it was none of his business. "But I could be wrong, and be playing chess with a mass murderer."

She looked down - his words, though cavalier in their delivery, hit harder than she anticipated. Mass murderer. Maybe he was right on both counts; she was a good person walking a villain's path that ended with the deaths of hundreds.

"Even if what you say is true…" she said, looking up at him, "you're still homeless because of us."

His smile fell, as did his eyes into a thoughtful frown at her unloved chess pieces. A long but quiet breath escaped his nose, as the cogs almost visibly turned in his mind.

"I'm gonna tell you something personal," he said after a short while, "and you have to promise me none of the others hear this - 'cause I don't know how they'll take it."

"I promise," she said with zero hesitation. After keeping her abnormality a secret for so long, it wasn't like it would be difficult.

He looked up at her, studying her for a few more seconds, before coming out with yet another surprise. "The _Guardian Star_ was never my home."

She recoiled slightly. "What?"

Holding up a hand, he added, "Don't misunderstand me - I'm grieving. I lost people I care about on that ship, and I miss them all so much. There are times when not hearing the usual sounds of activity keeps me up at night… but… my best friend is Toothless. We've been together for so long - wherever he is, that's home to me. As long as I'm with him-" he paused to sigh, "-I know I'm gonna be okay."

Astrid was stunned, her face blank. It was like looking at a kindred spirit, someone who, though he didn't know it, understood her more than anyone. Toothless to him was Stormfly to her.

For some inexplicable reason, despite it being the _last_ thing she would ever do, she wanted to hug him.

The guy was weird.

"Astrid," she blurted out. He looked up at her, and slightly cocked his head. "That's my name. Astrid Hofferson."

He half-smiled at her. "I know."

"How did you…" she said, frowning in puzzlement, before cutting herself off once she clocked it. "Frost."

"Ayup."

Her puzzlement only grew. "If you knew, why haven't you used it?"

He shrugged and scratched behind his right ear with his index finger. "I was waiting until you told me first. Names are a big thing - and I gotta say, it's an honour."

Her frown became a familiar look of incredulity. "Say what?"

"I've been reverse engineering Hoffertech for years - awesome stuff. It's cool to actually meet a Hofferson." He extended his hand. "Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, at your service."

Just as she took his hand, the blank expression made its regularly scheduled visit. "Hiccup… Horrendous… Haddock?"

"Don't forget the ' _third'_ bit," he said, holding up his other finger. "I come from a long line of involuntary diaphragm spasms."

"...Hiccup?"

"Now you're being rude."

She blinked. "S-sorry, it's just… you were named after a bodily function."

He chuckled. "I get this a lot. Wanna know why it's my name?"

She responded somewhat numbly, as though the world had suddenly stopped making sense and she had given up trying. "More than anything."

"Okay. Sit tight, 'cause this is a rollercoaster worthy of the ages." He shuffled to rest his elbows on the table, so he could animate the story with his hands. "My family has this tradition of having scary names. My dad's called Stoick, for example, and they figured it would scare people. You know, as though their charming demeanour wouldn't do that."

Though she couldn't help it, a quiet snigger escaped Astrid's lips.

"Anyway, when I was born, I was this scrawny, weak baby. No-one thought I'd survive, even with all this technology. So my mom Valka, and my dad decided to call me Hiccup. I used to think it was in honour of my fishbone-like baby body, but as it turned out, that wasn't why."

Astrid shuffled forward during his seemingly dramatic pause, and rested her chin on her hands. "Why?"

"I was called Hiccup, because they wanted a name that would prove everyone wrong. You see… _stubbornness issues_ run in my family, and I was a stubborn baby. I proved everyone wrong - just by living."

Astrid wryly half-smiled at him. "It fits you pretty well."

"Better than my brothers Vomit and Fart."

Her smile fell into a frown. "I… can't tell if you're joking or not."

He stared at her for a few seconds, before cracking up into silent giggles. "Yeah, I'm kidding," he said, and then his face suddenly went deadpan. "They're called Barf and Belch."

She scowled somewhat playfully at him as she kicked him under the table, and then kicked the other leg once she remembered why he did not react before.

That time, he did - with a barely suppressed yelp. "Ow! Hey! Wrong leg!"

She narrowed her eyes, though couldn't help the smirk. "You pulled my leg, so I kicked yours."

He… Hiccup gave her a protesting, wounded look as he leaned down, his shoulders rising and falling as he rubbed at his leg. "Is it always gonna be like this? I crack a joke and you hit me?"

"Depends on the joke." She straightened up, wearing a smug smirk. "So what's next on the class schedule?"

Hiccup shook his head in bewilderment. "Crazy lady kicks me in the shin, then asks me what's next…" He returned to his original position and watched her warily, one eyebrow cocked. "Now we're gonna try planning. Part of situational awareness is imagining what could go wrong, and acting accordingly. What you'd do if there's a concentric disturbance."

She blinked. "Concentric what?"

Hiccup flashed her an awkward smile. "You throw a stone into a lake, you get ripples, right? Concentric disturbances work the same way, like a chain of events. Lady drops her stuff she bought from the market, someone helps her pick it up. Disturbance over. What happens if there's a fight?"

"It attracts attention."

Hiccup clicked his fingers. "Nailed it. You need to be able to recognise a disturbance before it happens." He paused for a moment, before subtly inclining his head toward the two militia members. "Say the little guy won a game, for once. Big guy doesn't like it. What happens then?"

Astrid took one quick glance. Judging by how pitiful the smaller man was at checkers, it wasn't likely. "They argue."

Hiccup nodded. "And then?"

"They start a fight. Stuff gets broken. People start yelling."

"So far, so good. Next?"

Astrid thought for a moment. Concentric rings radiate out from a source, so if the hypothetical fight was the source…

"Passers-by stop and watch. Rubberneck. Some people start cheering… pretty soon we've got a crowd on our hands." Her brows began to furrow, and a glazed look crossed her eyes. "Shouting. Cheering."

Hiccup moved a piece - Astrid wasn't even sure which one. "The scene gets bigger."

"Yeah," she said. "all the commotion attracts the law. Militia arrive to see what all the commotion is about. They detain the brawlers, then start questioning people."

"And there we are-" Hiccup picked up his glass and gently toasted her with it, "-bang smack in the centre. Worst place to be. You see what I mean? It starts with a small fight, which makes a bigger fuss, and then a bigger one. The longer we are near the centre, the quicker our luck runs out."

Astrid nodded, the left corner of her lips curling in appreciation of just how cool it all was. After being so used to kicking down doors, announcing her presence and generally making a scene, the idea of her doing everything possible to _not_ be so blatant was both weird and intriguing. "So if something's gonna go down, we quietly get up and go."

"Ayep." Hiccup eyed her as she moved her bishop. "But we forgot something."

Astrid looked up at him, raising her eyebrows.

"Those two Vanishers. Say Laurel and Hardy-"

Astrid didn't even bother asking.

"-over there didn't fight, but started arguing. The commotion catches the attention of the Vanishers, and one of them just happens to look this way as we get up. They see you, and you look familiar… so they get up and start walking after us. What's the first thing that pops in your head?" he asked, as he leaned toward her with his elbows on the table, and his left hand curled over his right fist.

That was easy. "I engage them - neutralise them as quickly and cleanly as I can. If necessary, kill them."

Hiccup shook his head. "No, you're thinking like you're still a soldier."

She folded her arms and pursed her lips, a glaring sign she was less than impressed. "What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong is that you're still thinking you've got all Unity's military behind you, that you've still got all the resources you used to. One word, and you call in an airstrike. That's not happening anymore, as now those same resources are being used to _find_ you. Unity's guns are aiming _for_ you. You're the target now, so you've got nothing but your friends, your wits and your will to survive. You need to stop thinking like a Valkyrie, and start-"

"-thinking like a Ghost," she finished, somewhat irritably. "I get it."

Though the idea of thinking like a Ghost was not without its allure, for some reason.

"Great. See, engaging them means you're the source of the disturbance, and now the militia's looking for a blonde female in a hoverball cap and a handsome brunette with a peg leg. Try again."

She resisted the urge to chuckle, even if he was kind of cute. "Okay. Erm… we walk away, and if they follow us, we lead them into a secluded area and _then_ take them out."

Hiccup snapped his fingers, and gave her a half-smile. "Bingo. Ideally we want to lose them, but that's another lesson for another day. Violence should be a last resort, but if it comes to it, you've gotta be clean and quiet about it."

It made sense. She was so used to making noise, but noise was a bad thing. Truth be told, however… she was itching for a good fight. Hiccup then pointed out that they had barely moved two pieces in twenty minutes, fine for more seasoned players but a little too long for those just having a friendly game.

Thus, the boredom slowly returned, even with all the new information and skills she was putting to good use. She imagined a squad of clones marching through the streets as a display of authority, and whether to pull her hat closer over her forehead or knock a piece to the floor, thus obscuring her face while she retrieved it.

Peering out into the street had yielded the sighting of one of her friends, however; Rapunzel, clad in a faded green headscarf, lilac cardigan and ankle-length brown skirt. With her right hand holding up her head, Astrid gave her a subtle nod - and was rewarded with an equally subtle thumbs-up.

It was as Rapunzel disappeared behind the far side of the games section, that something caught her eye, something that aroused an uneasy sensation in her gut. Two men, both tall and burly with auburn hair, one with a green jacket and sideburns while the other wore black and a rather ostentatious eye-patch. Their eyes seemed to be fixed upon Rapunzel's back, and their speed matched hers, too.

Fighting the compulsion to get up, intercept them and knock them the hell out, she murmured, "I think one of those concentric disturbances is about to happen," just as the two men disappeared much like Rapunzel. She was barely aware of the blur of lilac past her right eye.

"Elaborate," Hiccup said, his eyes on Astrid's queen.

She told him of Rapunzel being tailed, down to their description, speed and direction, and even threw in her prediction of subsequent events. Throughout, Hiccup seemed unfazed. Blase, even. Surely he should be the slightest bit perturbed, at least?

"I think we should move," she said, frowning at his lack of reaction. "Something's gonna go down."

"Nah," he waved it off, "don't worry. It's part of her training."

"It is?"

"Mmm." He moved his queen to bat her last rook out of the game. "Need a tail to be able to learn how to lose one."

Her protective instincts shot up like a rocket, so much so that Hiccup had to issue a calming gesture with his hands to stop her vaulting the small fence and ending the two men. Good timing, considering her ass had left the seat whilst she was in the process of moving her bishop to take his queen. "It's cool, we've got it under control."

She shot him a hearty glare, infuriated with his cavalier attitude. "You don't know Rapunzel like I do. She's not built for this, she's too gentle and-"

"-and is also a warrior, like you. She was a Valkyrie, she can take care of herself by definition. Look, you care about your friends-" his hands reasserted their calming gesture when her thighs bumped the table in her attempt to rise "-I've got nothing but respect for that. Please understand that Anna would never let anything happen to her."

Her fingers, in her agitation, enclosed themselves around the bishop whilst her teeth found her lower lip. "You know that for sure?"

His lips curled into a wry smile. "She was trained by Pitch. Those thugs make a move, they'll be dead before they hit the ground."

Astrid breathed deeply to control herself, and the dull buzzing of her gifts in her body while she studied him. He seemed so certain, so easy with the knowledge that one of her friends was in a shady situation, even if she was supposedly protected. Were the Ghosts that cold? Had they always been that way, or was it as a result of the Valkyries?

"Which is good," Hiccup said, before taking another sip, "considering they're the guys who murdered the teenager in Des Moines."

Something in Astrid snapped, and her powers peaked. The bishop in her hands disintegrated with a muffled crack, and she barely stopped herself in time from doing the same to his face. Her expression became steely, and her eyes radiated fury. She growled, "What?"

Hiccup's face went blank with realisation. "Ah… crap."

"You have about five seconds," she said, her breaths slow and deep with hot anger, "to explain before I make you a _concentric_ _disturbance_."

Hiccup took a long, deep sigh, taking him dangerously close to the five second mark, before leaning forward to explain it all.

In order for Rapunzel to understand exactly what it was like to be tailed so she could learn to control the adrenaline, worry and panic, she had to have a proper tail. Therefore, upon learning their names, Pitch Black sought out and paid the two men who murdered the young man in Des Moines, with the dual purpose of having them _only_ follow Rapunzel around Perdition, but also set them up to be arrested - a strategically placed stolen necklace would see to that. Rapunzel would get a true taste of what it would be like, and the young boy would get some form of justice. He didn't like the plan, but knew Anna had orders to incapacitate the men and extract Rapunzel if the situation looked like it was going sideways on them.

It looked like Rapunzel was under the best protection, but still - she was the heart and light of the team. She should never have been put in that situation - morbidly logical as it was.

"I promise you," Hiccup said, his calming hands increasing her urge to break them, "when Frost said you were under our protection, he meant it. All of you."

It didn't do much to dampen her frustration, but it did enough. Still glaring, she let out a long breath through her nose and let her fist unclench under the table - having been utterly decimated by her powers, the dust that was once her bishop slipped between her fingers to the floor.

"You know," she said tonelessly, "I've got a real temptation to kick you in the balls."

Hiccup cringed and immediately shuffled backwards. "Please don't. They're not cybernetic, and I'd like to be able to use them for once."

Astrid's brain twigged something that set off a niggle of puzzlement, one that halted the anger in its tracks. "...for once? What do you mean, for-"

It was when Hiccup's face turned a glorious shade of crimson that reached the tips of ears, forcing him to awkwardly duck his face and scratch the nape of his neck, that she clocked it.

Her face went blank. "You've never-"

"Nope." He cringed.

She made a circle with her left finger and thumb, and poked through the hole with her right finger. "You haven't-"

"Can we please stop talking about this? No, I've never had sex," he grumbled.

Astrid, in a state of complete bemusement that did a sterling job of chasing the protective anger, stared blankly at him for several seconds. She watched how his eyes went to everywhere _but_ her, and how he was attempting to become one with the chair. Unfettered by its antithesis, mirth bubbled up inside her into a snort of laughter, one she just about concealed with a loose fist over her mouth. He rolled his eyes at her, whilst her shoulders bounced with every giggle.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It's not embarrassing _at all,"_ he said after a long, quiet groan.

"S-sorry!" she said in between chortles behind her fist, "it's just… you've surprised me _again._ You're funny, pretty toned from what I'm guessing-"

Hiccup, if it was possible, went a fiercer red.

"-and you're riding an amazing creature into battle - just _how_ has no-one jumped your bones?"

Hiccup attempted to clear his throat, which came out as more of an awkward choke, and picked up his king so he could fiddle with it. "I dunno - I mean, I've had offers, but…"

"But what?"

He glanced up at her a few times while the king completed several revolutions between his fingers.

"I guess I'm just waiting for the right woman."

She stared at him, gaping. In the furthest corners of her heart, the part of her that was not hardened by battle, violence and independence, melted. A romantic? In _this_ day and age? Here was a nice guy - not a ' _nice'_ guy, but an actual nice guy.

"Hey, can we change the subject?" he said, cringing. "I don't wanna be the first person to spontaneously combust from awkwardness."

"Uh…" she struggled for something beyond a random sound to say, "Sure. To what?"

Hiccup shrugged. "I dunno, just something _not_ to do with my spectacular inexperience with women." That time, the king completed a somersault in the air as his face brightened with an idea. "How about your family? What's it like, being part of the Hofferson clan?'

Whatever good humour she possessed, or faint amazement at the difference between Hiccup and all the other guys she knew, vanished at the mere mention of home. She wished he hadn't said anything, since the anger and resentment came back full force. She looked away from him, and glared daggers at his knight. He just had to go there.

"Nothing much to tell," she said, quiet and toneless, as her fists dug nails into her palms under the table. "Just your average family."

Even without seeing it, she could feel his gape. "Seriously? Your parents are the creators of all Unity's technological advances, and they're-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh." Hiccup sounded deflated, like someone had reached in and sapped his cheer… or stung him. "Sorry, I just-"

"I said-" her fist slammed down on the table as she snapped, causing a loud bang that attracted looks from around her, including the two Inquisitors. Anxiety at causing such a scene quickly pushed her frustration aside, so she pulled her cap further down her head and pointed at his queen. "I said I don't want to talk about it."

It was when she looked up at him to drive home the point that she saw his expression; he looked like she had slapped him across the face. Her heart clenched at the wounded look in his eyes, seconds before his gaze dropped to the chessboard. Great. As if she wasn't already feeling guilty about her exploits as a Valkyrie.

"Hiccup, I-"

"It's fine." He gently shook his head and gave it a subtle waving off. "It's my fault, really. I shouldn't have asked."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but a voice from her right startled her into a jump - well, more of a flinch, depending who she'd admit it to.

"You know, you could have taken his king about ten moves ago."

She whipped her head to the source, and immediately felt her bonus objective slip through her fingers. Elsa's blue eyes regarded the chessboard with an amused gaze and an equally wry smirk - and behind her, Frost cast watchful glances up and down the street."

"Dammit," Astrid hissed.

* * *

Having been in a state of constant pacing since her return - part of her regretted her snap at Rapunzel on the way to the bedroom, but couldn't deal with conversation at that point - Astrid paid no attention to the sound of the safe house's front door practically being kicked off its hinges.

She knew something was wrong when Merida's inimitable accent penetrated her bedroom door, though, with the only word she could discern: "Help."

Quickly striding to her door, she pulled it open just in time to see Elsa rushing past her toward the living room. Peering around the door frame, the unease in her gut intensified at the sight of Merida carefully leading a limp and clearly injured Pitch Black toward the more comfortable chairs out of sight, followed by - something Astrid noted with part pride, part bemusement - _both_ Rapunzel and Anna rising from the kitchen table and marching purposefully toward them. Voices talked over each other in a thick indiscernible clamour, though the emotion behind them was clear; Merida's was of panic and anxiety; Frost had an urgent, scratchy tone; Rapunzel and Anna shared the same matter-of-fact focus, and Elsa said little.

The first thought through her mind was what the hell must have happened for Pitch to come back in such a state… but the second: did Hiccup know?

It was probably worth telling him.

She closed the door and went to the window - she didn't fancy walking past the clearly tense scene in the living room - and unlatched it, having observed the others doing it whilst bringing the house to code. Clambering out, she dropped the few feet distance to the frosted grass and immediately set off toward the barn.

In the dark of the encroaching night as she approached, the barn _would_ have looked menacing had it not been for the pleasant amber glow filtering through the cracks between the wood, and the sound of Hiccup's voice as he teased and mocked another occupant of the barn - obviously Toothless.

"Oh, if anyone saw you now, buddy."

Yowls and adorable warbles comprised the reply.

"Scourge of Unity's air force. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself-" the sound of scratching mingled with his voice, "-now look at you. On your back, legs in the air, tongue stuck out. The fiercest dragon in the world, at the mercy of a good scratch under your-"

The goofy rumbles of Toothless in deep enjoyment instantly switched, as did the atmosphere, from cute yowls to a low, sustained, threatening growl. Her fist hovering over the door, she hesitated.

"Who's there?"

Astrid exhaled a resigned breath; there was nothing else for it. "It's me, Astrid," she called out.

Hiccup's voice seemed to immediately pick up. "Oh, hey! Come on in."

She inhaled and then exhaled another breath before sliding the door across, just as Toothless issued his master a bewildered " _rowr?!",_ and went inside.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to Toothless, illuminated by the dim glow of a free-standing torch. His pupils were narrowed into thin slits, and his scaly lips were drawn back to showcase a row of razor sharp teeth. Hackles raised, he had positioned himself between her and Hiccup, his left wing slightly unfolded to obscure his master. Every inch of his protective aggression was pointed at Astrid, a clear sign she wasn't welcome. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little bit scared.

Until Hiccup defused the tension, of course, with a calming hand on his wing and a soothing voice. "Cool it, buddy. Astrid's a friend."

Toothless shot him an incredulous look over his shoulder. "It's fine," Hiccup persisted, "you can stand down."

Toothless turned back to give Astrid one last glaring look - his version of ' _if you say so' -_ before grunting his disapproval and trotting around Hiccup to curl up in the far left corner. Even though his head was partially obscured, Astrid could still see his eyes peering out at her, watching her.

He truly was a beautiful creature.

"Sorry about that," Hiccup offered, scratching the nape of his neck, "he's real protective of me."

"Or he doesn't like me," Astrid pointed out the truth Hiccup was dancing around.

"Well… yeah, I guess." He pocketed his hands and gave her a welcoming smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh," Astrid hesitated, temporarily bereft of speech as she moved further into the barn. "Pitch just came back injured, I came to let you know."

Hiccup nodded, and tapped his right ear. "Way ahead of you."

Astrid uttered an ' _ah',_ and immediately felt silly for forgetting about his earpiece. She folded her arms, and gave him a studying look. "And you're not bothered?"

"From what I hear, Anna and… Blondie, I think her new call sign is, have got it under control," he said, shrugging. "So yeah, I've got complete confidence it's all gonna work out."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you _do_ that? You always see the best, just like Rapunzel."

He shrugged again, then turned briefly to check a crate was still behind him before leaning his butt against it and folding his arms. "Dunno. I guess I believe in the goodness of people. I don't think anyone's truly evil, they're just a product of their life experience."

Astrid quietly scoffed, then looked down and back up as she shuffled her feet. "Trust me, Hiccup. Evil exists. I've seen it. I've…" she trailed off, and finished under her breath, as a small doll filled her mind, "...done it."

"Maybe so - and sometimes you have to call a stun rifle what it is… but I don't believe you'd still be here if you didn't want to make amends."

She flinched slightly. "How did you-"

He smiled, and tapped his ear again. "I'm partially deaf, so my earpiece moonlights as a hearing aid."

Her eyes rose to heaven, sent there by a bitter smile. Of course. No wonder there was this weird sensation of the walls around her being dismantled, brick by brick.

She looked back down at the ground, starkly aware of the light tension in the barn. "Listen," she said, "I wanted to apologise for how I was earlier. My parents are a touchy topic."

Hiccup unfolded his arms to wave it off. "No need. I shouldn't have asked. Water under the bridge."

"Hiccup, don't." She took a step forward. "It's tough for me to say I'm sorry, and I should, because… friends-" she paused, finding it hard to even _believe_ the word, "don't act like that."

She glanced up at him - there was no hurt, no anger. Just… empathy. "I'm not used to it when people… care."

"Why not?" he asked, frowning.

She bit her lip, and looked off to the right with a light shrug. "Dunno. I just assume nobody cares. Less complicated that way."

If nobody cared, she didn't have to. She could use and not be used. Fuck without the danger of attachment - just like she did Frost. She was in control. She was _bulletproof._

She looked back at Hiccup just as he quirked his lips, and his eyes radiated _pity_ , of all things. "Lonely way to live."

Astrid tilted her head and back, as though conceding a point. "Good way to survive."

Hiccup exhaled a long breath, and pushed himself off the crate. He took a few steps toward her, and offered his hand. "Might have to change that if you're gonna be on the team."

Astrid scoffed as she shook his hand. Like that would ever happen; Hiccup may have rationalised it all, but for the rest of the Ghosts, history was very much still the present. "Don't hold your breath," she said.

Hiccup smiled, and released her hand. "Like I said, I have faith."

"Keep telling yourself that, flyboy-oh, and by the way-"

Her right hand balled into a fist, which was promptly applied into his left upper arm. It must have been harder than she thought, as he yelped in pain and recoiled his entire left side.

"Ow! Hey!" he cried.

"That was for making the memory game harder."

Her left fist went into his right upper arm.

"That was for not telling me about Rapunzel."

"Is this gonna be a regular thing with you?!" he winced, crossing his arms to gently rub and protect both ' _wounds'._

What happened next took her by surprise, both the action and how easily it came about - she stepped forward and _hugged_ him. It was only for three seconds, felt uncomfortable as hell and caused him to stiffen like a board, but it was there.

She took two quick steps back and immediately held her hands behind her back. "That was…" she began awkwardly, "for… everything else."

Hiccup stared at her like a blank slate, though she couldn't blame him. His neck was probably killing from the whiplash. Sensing her welcome was outstayed - mostly from the faint growling coming from the corner - she smiled awkwardly and turned to leave…

...and then an idea hit her.

She hastily turned back. Hiccup was still staring at her like she was the most confusing person in the world, still cradling both arms. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to roll the dice.

"I have a favour to ask."

He blinked, and a mildly cautious look overtook the blank gaze. "So long as it doesn't involve unprovoked, gratuitous violence."

Astrid rolled her eyes, though her hands moved to slowly rub their palms across each other in front of her. Judging by the way his eyes danced down to her warring extremities, he had picked up on her uncertainty.

"What do you need?"

Her lips turned inward and rubbed against each other. It was now or never.

"I have a friend. More like my best friend, really. I think she… I think she could help you-your team-in the fight."

Hiccup did something that took her off guard - he scoffed, resting his hands on his hips. "There's no fight, Astrid. Much as I don't agree with Frost's pessimism, he's right. The Ghosts are in no shape to fight - and you're asking that we bring someone new into our crazy situation."

"Still," Astrid said abruptly, anxious not to let it affect her. "She could be useful… and I…"

"You miss her."

Astrid looked down to hide the bitter smile, yet her eyes moved to rest upon Toothless. "I think you understand how much."

There was a long, loud exhalation of breath, one she sensed carried the weighing of options and probabilities, dangers and risks. It was a hell of a gamble, but it was a _chance._ A win-win result.

"Okay," he finally answered, causing her heart to commit an uncharacteristic leap for joy, "but you're gonna have to get the green light from Frost. He's the C.O., after all. I'm not gonna go behind his back."

Astrid nodded a little more vigorously than she would have liked. "Frost. Okay. He and I have history… maybe he won't say no straight off."

"You mean when you two had sex?"

She sighed irritably, despite the lack of accusation in his tone. Why was everyone so bent out of shape that she slept with him? "Well, it's not like I saved his ass twice, but yeah, if you want. The sex."

Hiccup raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm not judging. But I am coming with you."

It was her turn to blink, and stare blankly. "You are?"

"Yeah." He walked past her toward the barn door. "I'm his X.O., so your chances are better if I'm there to endorse it. Otherwise it may not matter what you two shared."

"What do you mean?" she asked as she passed him through the door into the night air. It was cold, crisp, and tasted of hope as she breathed it in.

Hiccup's voice lost its easygoing quality as they walked, replaced by a grave tone that did little to stifle her unease. "Something went wrong in Perdition, and one of our team just came back injured with one of yours, who from what I hear is unharmed. If I know Frost?"

Hiccup took a breath in such a way, Astrid wasn't sure she liked the implications riding on it.

"He's gonna be pissed."

* * *

 


	45. Perdition IV: Of Shadows and Sparks

**Perdition IV: Of Shadows and Sparks**

"Oh, no, ye just sit right there!" Merida angrily yelled over the violent commotion at Pitch, as she tightened the headlock around Rick, punching him twice more in the head for good measure, and sent him on his merry way to the floor. "I've got this completely under control!"

Buck charged at her for a blind swing, but was sent flying backwards courtesy of one of her boots to his chest. Eyes still engrossed in his book, Pitch lifted his tankard out of harm's way just before Buck crashed into the table, and responded with an infuriatingly casual voice, "Is that why the bar is on fire?"

Merida threw a quick glance toward the bar just before ducking a haymaker from yet another bar patron, and rewarding his bravery with a punch to his solar plexus followed by an elbow to his back as he doubled over, sending him crashing to the ground. Sure enough, through the dozens of bodies all engaged in a vicious bar brawl - the bar counter was indeed aflame. For a few moments, Merida wondered if she was the one who started the fire.

Not that she had much time to think further upon the topic; with a roar of rage, yet _another_ patron came barreling toward her wielding a flimsy wooden stool, intent on bringing it down on her head. Elegantly sidestepping the strike, she applied a kick to the back of his left knee and another right up his backside, sending him crashing into the floor. Not two seconds later, she felt the arrival of a pair of arms wrapping themselves around her chest in a bear hug, and their owner was strong enough that despite her struggling and yelled curses, he lifted her off the ground. Judging by the smell, it was Buck. The man who once wielded the stool scrambled to his feet and aimed a punch toward her abdomen, his face contorted with snarling, frothing rage - with a grunt of effort, Merida grabbed onto the neck of Buck, who was squeezing her tight enough to suffocate, and lifted her legs into the air, landing them on Stool-Guy's shoulders, where she crossed them at the ankles around his neck. Elsa called it the Human Hammock.

With a yell of _get-the-hell-off-me_ anger, she rolled her entire body weight to the right, causing both men to lose their footing and topple down for a harsh meeting with the floor. Quickest to recover yet still on her side, body stinging with the sudden drop, Merida drove her left boot into Stool-Guy's face whilst yelling, "Feel free tae jump in anytime, ye lanky pillock!"

There was an audible sigh of exasperation even over the clamour of a mass bar fight. Scrambling to her feet, she drove a knee into Buck's nose just as he too was in the process of getting up, and glanced over at the table in time for Pitch to huff.

"Fine." He closed and pocketed his book, drained the remnants of the _Widowmaker_ from his tankard, and promptly hurled it in her direction, his trench coat swirling elegantly with the violent movement. Eyes widening in shock, Merida jerked backwards with a gasped curse to avoid the metal object hurtling toward her - though when the sound of a wet crunch and a guttural howl of pain reached her ears, she figured it wasn't aimed at her. No, the lucky recipient of the projectile tankard was Buck, who was about to bring a stool leg down on Merida's neck. Blood streaming from between the hands desperately trying to stem the flow, Buck staggered backwards only to trip over an unconscious barfly. Pitch began walking towards her, stopping once to block a wild swing from one of the more inebriated patrons and counter it with a quick one-two to his chest and a sucker punch to his jaw that sent him across one of the nearby tables. Merida, wearing a smirk of her own, noticed how Pitch's lips were curled into a mildly entertained smile.

"Do all bar visits end like this with you?" he asked her as soon as he pulled up to stand by her side, watching the chaotic brawl with amused eyes. Grateful for the reprieve from the non-stop melee, Merida chuckled as she turned toward the end of the bar that was _not_ aflame, and leaned over it to grab two bottles of synth-beer from under the counter.

Merida threw her head back in a guffaw. "Only the best ones," she answered as she passed him one of them, and proceeded to twist off the lid once her hand was free. Taking a swig, she nearly choked in laughter as a man was sent stumbling from the melee into Pitch's chest, only for him to be roughly turned on his heel with one hand by the grumpy Ghost and pushed right back in with a boot to his backside. Finally, someone who knew how to have a little fun.

Movement caught her eye - not that it as in any way hard, given their environment - from the general area Pitch previously vacated: Buck had managed to stem the bleeding from his nose, and was being cautiously pushed toward them by Stool-Guy, the one who took a swing at Pitch, and Rick. She tapped him on the arm with the back of her beer-hand, and gestured with a slightly inclined head toward them. "Looks like they're queuing up," she said before taking a deep draught.

Pitch took a swig and swallowed before responding. "They must be excited," he said, and tossed the bottle aside where it smashed against the floor. He turned to her, and eyes twinkling with golden amusement, gestured toward the clearly nervous men and said, "Ladies first."

* * *

  _Ninety minutes earlier..._

Merida let loose a sigh of deep boredom, her chin resting in the palm of her upturned right hand whilst her elbow balanced on the heavily worn and gouged circular wooden table. Drumming her free fingers on its surface, her eyes glided over the half-full bar, trying to pick out _something_ interesting among the inhabitants. A smile. A fascinating item of clothing. The beginnings of a fight. _Anything_ that would remotely justify sitting in a quiet bar for hours, doing nothing. Nada. Zilch.

No - as it had been since they arrived, the bar was as engaging and distracting as a block of grey concrete, or the standup routines of the comedian U. Niddy. Barflies remained stooped in low, unhurried conversation, with some even playing cards to pass the time. She cast a sideways glance at Pitch, who was still as engrossed in a book he had plucked from his pocket as he had been since they sat down. She let out a protracted groan and rolled her eyes - any longer and she was liable to entertain herself. Probably with a fight.

She flopped back against her chair and took a swig of her synth-beer. While she drank, her eyes travelled over Pitch as he absorbed the words on the page, his expression barely changing bar the occasional quirk of an eyebrow. The title of the book read _Great Expectations_ \- Merida knew a thing or two about expectations. The fun idea of showing him the range of her family's synthohol, for example. Maybe some darts. Not crushing boredom and clockstaring, or accurately predicting the order in which Cynthia was reading the ' _news'_ on the Uni-Com near the bar.

"Any good?"

Pitch responded with an absent-minded _hmm?_

"Yer book."

The beard around his lips quirked sideways an inch. "I find it to be disappointing."

Merida stared blankly at him for a few seconds, before the realisation hit her in a snort of giggles behind her hand. At _last_ , some entertainment to liven up the dreary atmosphere. Pitch looked up from the book, and regarded her with eyebrows raised.

She stared at him for a few moments as the giggles dwindled. Was he so oblivious? "Ye made a joke," she said, bewildered at having to explain the damn joke in the first place. "Great expectations… disappointed?"

Pitch looked away in thought, and then uttered another _hum_ before returning to the book. Merida eyed him for a few more seconds before huffing another roll of her eyes.

She took another swig and looked off toward the Uni-Com. "You know, if this was a date, ye can bet there wouldnae be a second."

Pitch turned a page. "Then it is fortunate this is not a date," he responded airily. "For me, that is."

Merida, though she was tempted to, did not rise to the bait. Rather, she took his snark and threw it right back at him with a teasing smirk. "Ye never dated before?"

The book went down with a gentle clatter on the table, still held in his fingers. Head tilted, he gave her an exasperated look. "What possible relevance is that to what we're doing?"

Merida shrugged. "I'm just making conversation." She took another swig, then wiped the back of her left hand across her lips. "Since we came here, yer nose has been stuck in that book, so I'm bored." She drained the bottle, then held it in front of her with an unimpressed eye. "Pisswater. What _are_ we doing, anyway?"

Pitch studied her for a few moments - less like the hungry stares she had been getting every so often from the other patrons, and more like he was assessing her. Calculating. He then elegantly closed the book with his long, thin fingers, and rested it on the table with a deep sigh through his nose before he spoke.

"Have you ever heard of the phrase ' _loose lips sink ships?'"_

Shaking her head in answer, Merida could only be reminded of a burning aircraft carrier impaled by blue light. She wondered if that was his intention, such was the uncomfortable burning in her stomach.

Pitch nodded to himself as though confirming an internal prediction. "It's a phrase from the Second World War. It was believed that gossip from family members or significant others of soldiers was dangerous, and would put those soldiers at risk should it be heard by the wrong ears."

"An' I take it we're tha wrong ears?"

Pitch nodded again, slow and methodical. "Precisely. Now, scout teams would have gathered this intel for us, but… they're all dead now, no thanks to you."

Merida frowned at him. Was that going to be a regular thing with him?

"Therefore we must be our own eyes and ears - though there is a certain attraction to the inherent practicality." Pitch drew his hood further over his head, and entwined his fingers together over the table. "Ergo, we are here."

"But why a bar?"

Pitch then cracked a chuckle, one that seemed to carry with it a dry knowing. "You'd be surprised how loose lips can be in an environment of synthohol and and arrogance - if there's one thing Unity possesses in abundance, it's arrogance."

There was a bitter snort from Merida's nose - actually, that was pretty familiar. A starry eyed, wee maiden of high school age, smitten with a taller boy called Macintosh. A secret party while her parents and brothers were out of the city, where synthohol was consumed underage, gorgeous makeout sessions on the couch, and a given virginity. An overheard conversation between Macintosh and three vapid girls, calling the maiden a terrible kisser, frigid, and someone he pitied but couldn't wait to dump.

A broken nose, and the boy sent sprawling over the concrete in front of their house - pain, betrayal, and the conviction that never again shall she fall in love.

Yep, pretty familiar.

"Aye, I can vouch fer that," she said hollowly. Years on, it still hurt. "As tha daughter of tha Dunbroch family, I cannae deny that."

Pitch tilted his head, narrowing his eyes a little. "You are part of the family that is in control of synthetic alcohol production and distribution?"

Merida nodded her head, frowning. Where was he going with that? Was he going to be yet another fan who would spout drunken adorations over her family's critical role in keeping Unity sane? Or curse-filled negativity over the taste of their experimental boozes? The latter occurred a little more often than the former - her father Fergus did like to play around with concoctions.

Pitch picked up his bottle, eyeing her with a taunting… yet teasing look. "If that is the case - why have we been drinking this watered down shite since we arrived?"

For the first few seconds, Merida stared at him with indignant offense, and seriously debated punching him in the nose for that - until he added, "Surely, Dunbroch, you could do better?"

Slowly, her lips cracked into a challenged smirk that went well with the taunting bounce of her eyebrows. "Yer on, laddie." Rising from her chair with intent to harass the barman over and over, she then added, "an' fer the record, I'm gonna drink ye under the table."

And so began her quest - if she wasn't going to beat him at darts or any other form of sports competition, she was going to be the only one upright at the end. Sure, their competition wasn't conducive to their intel gathering task, but she was finally having _fun._ Trips to to the bar were made ad infinitum, with different coloured beverages returned to their table from weakest to strongest, and under her watchful eyes his expressions ranged from unimpressed, to unfazed, and mildly impressed. That Pitch was a hard man to crack; most of her opponents gave up or fell over three quarters of the way, and there he was, about to try the strongest the Dunbroch family had to offer.

"The _Widowmaker_ ," she announced with pride as she flopped down on her chair, carrying two tankards, the clear contents of which sloshing around with the movement. "Yer only supposed ta have it as a shot, but I reckon ye can take it."

Pitch took the tankard and swirled the liquid, before gently leaning his nose over the rim to take a small sniff. "It smells like you could clean _Helas_ with it."

"Aye - and it has been done." She raised her tankard, wearing a light smirk. "Ta the gathering of intel. Cheers."

Two swigs were taken at the same time. The obscenely strong, bitter liquid burned its way down her throat, causing her tongue and gag reflex to yell copious profanities at her. She held her breath to stave off a telling cough - no way was she going to show that kind of weakness in front of him.

However, Pitch's reaction was far more understated than she expected. She wanted him to cough and sputter, pull a face of disgust and curse her very name for bringing that very drink… but no. He smacked his lips, eyed the liquid for few seconds, and then simply shrugged. "Meh. It's not bad."

Merida's jaw hit the floor at the same time as her tankard hit the table - mercifully still held by her hand. "Not _bad?!"_

"That's what I said."

She leaned forward and brandished a threatening finger at him, her face contorted with an indignant scowl. "Now, ye listen here, laddie. That there's tha pride and jewel of tha Dunbroch name. Strongest, best we have. Ye can only ask fer it if ye know about it, and even then, ye can only have it in shots. Ye're drinkin' years of perfection in that tankard, so ye'd better come up with somethin' a wee bit better than ' _not bad'!"_

Pitch looked at her like she was speaking another language. "Why would I embellish the truth, when it's exactly that - not bad."

Merida narrowed her eyes and emitted a low, irritated growl. "That is an unaccountable lie, and ye know it."

"I don't lie."

"First time fer everything."

"I didn't say I didn't like it."

"No, ye said it was not bad."

"What irks you more, Dunbroch?" He took a deep swig, as though to reinforce a point. "That I said it wasn't bad, or that you had _great expectations_ about my reaction _?"_

Merida opened her mouth and took a quick breath to retort with a ' _neither',_ but went another way. "Bit o' both."

"Sorry to disappoint you. Besides, I've had this before."

"When?!"

Pitch's answer was about as _matter-of-fact_ as they come. "The wake of the funeral of our friends."

There it was. Merida's prepared sentence disappeared with a long breath through her nose, and any good humour there was between them became a thick haze of awkwardness and silence much like earlier. Pitch interested himself in his drink, whilst Merida turned her gaze elsewhere. Was it always going to be like that, where one step of progress was made only to go two steps back?

_I know we seem to be getting along, but do you remember the Purge?_

Her eyes fell upon the Uni-Com on the other side of the bar, where she caught a glimpse of the local weather report just before the news returned to its current events segment. A heavy storm was due to pass over Perdition and the surrounding area soon - she wondered if the Ghosts were aware. She also wondered if Perdition itself would be ready - no reason it shouldn't. It survived Reaper attacks every other day, so a storm should be nothing new. She raised the tankard to her lips as she watched Cynthia silently mouth the news, yet as soon as she took notice of the first report, the tankard hovered before her lips, frozen.

"Son of a bitch actually did it," she hissed.

Pitch repeated his oft-used ' _hmm?',_ so she gestured with a slight incline of her head to the Uni-Com, where the news ticker read:

_COMMANDER HANS LARSEN ANNOUNCES CANDIDACY FOR SUPREME COMMANDER_

Merida snorted bitterly, and contented her ire with a deep draught. "It's goin' just like the bastard planned," she growled in a toneless voice.

"Not entirely."

She rounded her eyes on him, and threw him a disdainful glare. "How'd ye figure that then, pretty-boy?"

As always, unfazed. "You're still alive."

Merida scoffed and rolled her eyes, before swallowing her derision with another gulp of the bitter liquid. "Ye know exactly what ta say ta make a lass feel better."

Pitch opened up his book and began to immerse himself in its contents. "Larsen planned for you to die up there, but you didn't. You survived. You are now the unknown element, the unpredictable variable. The ghost in the machine, if you will."

Merida threw him a sideways look. "Aye, and he's not an idiot. He probably knows we're alive."

"Certainly - which means you will always be at the back of his mind. He will be looking over his shoulder." He closed the book, and regarded her with piercing golden eyes that alternately rooted her yet stripped her of her concerns. "Everyone creates the things they dread, and he dreads you. You are now his shadow. Whatever he does from this point on, he will do knowing that someday, you will come for him."

He looked off to the side, before returning his attention to the book - was it her imagination, or was there a ghost of a smile on his lips? "I don't know about you, but I find that comforting."

"Ye seem ta know a lot about fear," she said, hiding a smile behind her tankard.

"I know about creating it." His nose let out a long exhalation, and as he pocketed his book, his gaze travelled over the barflies, and said, "I could kill everyone in this bar if I wanted to, and there is a part of me that does."

Merida swallowed another mouthful and smacked her lips. "Even me?"

"If you gave me reason to," he stated bluntly.

Merida looked at the swirling liquid in her tankard, and raised her eyebrows with a thoughtful ' _hmm'._ Nothing much she could say to that.

Pitch had no such compunction. "You are not afraid."

She cast him a quizzical look over the rim of her drink before taking a sip. "Should I be?"

"Yes. There should be a healthy fear of death."

Merida put her tankard down on the table, and stared at him with conviction and defiance. "I am not afraid ta die."

Pitch tilted his head like she was some sort of curiosity. "Why not?"

"My dad once said: ' _Courage, lassie, is knowin' yer enemies are tryin' ta break down tha door, but ye stand yer ground no matter what.'"_ She looked away, and smiled wistfully at the memory of Fergus' scratchy, hoarse, calming voice. "' _Bravery is openin' that door and chargin' through.'"_

She cast a sideways glance at Pitch, who studied her closely. Was it important to him to hear her father's advice? "Interesting philosophy," he said after a few moments of silence. "Some might call that foolishness."

"Aye." Merida chuckled to herself, before sipping the last few inches of the _Widowmaker._ "What about you? D'ye fear anything?"

The briefest flash of regret that crossed his eyes as he looked away for a second surprised her, before it was mercilessly undone by the impassive mask. "The only thing I feared, came to pass during the Purge."

There it was again. Two steps forward, one step back. Pitch seemed to sense the awkward tension, given that Merida's mildly exasperated sigh wasn't exactly inaudible, so with a snort he drained the last of his drink. "So, no. I no longer fear anything."

The silence that fell over the table, uncertain and tense in its thickness, took on a new facet: curiosity. Pitch was surprising her at almost every turn, sometimes in a good way, some ways more irksome, yet he struck her as an enigma trapped in a worn treasure chest, wrapped by iron chains. Strange was her faint desire to know more - but as she opened her mouth to ask about his last fear, he announced his intent for two more tankards of the booze and swept off to the bar, leaving her alone at the table.

There was one thing she feared, that he didn't know about. She feared a cage, made either by herself or others. Shackles keeping her tethered while the world passed by, taking with it all chance of honor and doing the right thing. To fight on the right side, for once. Maybe that was why she wanted to get along with him.

The doors swung open with a clatter, startling her from her thoughts. She cast a quick look just as four men entered, varying in sizes from short to tall, rotund to muscular, each with scruffy and unkempt differently coloured hair that reached their shoulders. The tallest one met her gaze after a small double take, and winked as he flashed her a jock-like smirk.

She rolled her eyes with a disdainful snort, and quaffed the last of her drink. Great. Another pillock who thought he was weak-knees material. She hoped the simmering nausea wasn't as a result of the booze - and just _how_ was Pitch still standing? She glanced over at him as he passed the shortest man who was heading to the bar on his way back to the table, and remarked on his completely straight line of travel. Probably something to do with being an abnormal - which would explain why she could - and regularly did - drink anyone under the table.

The sensation of being watched tickled at the hairs on the back of her neck, and as Pitch took his seat by her and slid another tankard over, her eyes betrayed a quick glance at the source; the tall man was sat a couple of tables over, and as soon as their eyes met, he gave her a ' _how you doing'_ nod of his head.

"Ugh," she said with disgust as she pulled her hood further over her head.

"Problem?"

"Only some cocky knucklehead over there." She snuck a subtle nod in that direction. "Bloke thinks just 'cause I've got a pair o' tits he can turn on tha charm."

"Nothing you can't handle, I imagine." Pitch took a draught, and relaxed into his chair. "Besides, they're the moronic neanderthals who will tell us all we need to know."

Merida frowned in bemusement, and shot him a likewise look. "What, are ye gonna beat it outta 'em?" She paused for a second. "Can I help?"

Pitch chuckled to himself, causing Merida to slightly recoil her head back in surprise. She actually made him _laugh._ Probably the synthohol, she mused. "No," he answered, "sadly there will be no need for violence. Especially since we don't want to attract attention."

Merida groaned somewhat overdramatically. "Please don't tell me ye want me ta hit on him."

"As much of an entertaining disaster that would be-"

Merida had to suppress the urge to hit him.

"-all we need to do is listen. This is the time of day when the workers visit the bars to wind down, or the militia rotate their shifts. This will be when tongues are loosest."

Merida emitted a faint ' _huh'_ just as the rotund man returned clutching four bottles of synth-beer - she did a _should've-known_ snort - and trained her ears on the ensuing conversation.

"Here's to Archon Damocles," the middling man with black hair uttered with a monotone, robotic low rumble.

"What's he done now?" said the man who brought the beers.

"Got me and Bubba buildin' a new barracks. S'posed to be havin' more Browneyes stationed here."

"What, just you two building it?" said the man who _thought_ he could make Merida swoon.

"No, Rick, ya jackass. Me and the boys. 'Parently every settlement's gettin' more Browneyes. Security or some shit."

"Wonder why," said the fourth man, whose back was to Merida. She remembered his badly-groomed handlebar moustache.

"My cousin in New Arendelle sez it's something to do with the anti-freak squad, the A A.S or whatever-"

Merida heard a low growl come from Pitch's vicinity.

"-he sez somethin's gone wrong with them, so they're growin' more Browneyes to deal with the freaks bloomin'."

She couldn't help it; turning her head just enough to catch Pitch's eye, she bounced her eyebrows once and curled the left side of her lips in a smirk. A silent _told-you-so._ He simply scoffed, and rolled his golden eyes.

"Coulda used 'em that time Jenny nearly got raped by that grey-skin freak," said the man with the moustache after a deep glug of his beer, and a rather distasteful belch.

"Hah. Yeah. I remember him. Skinny little prick with those weird gold eyes. Chased him off but good," laughed the black-haired man.

Merida's attention was alerted to the sound of shifting sand at her right, and her gaze snapped to Pitch's hand. Sand was slowly forming into a blade over his knuckles, and as she glanced up to his face, he was busy burning a hole with his gaze into the tankard in his left hand. His jaw looked tense enough to break - so without thinking, her hand quickly shot out to rest upon his to stop it. With a start, his eyes went to their hands, and then to hers, wearing a look that danced between confusion and _don't-touch-me,_ yet it wasn't until the shifting of sand could be heard that he pulled his hand away.

"Ye were-"

"I get it."

Pitch took his attention to a drink from the tankard, effectively shutting her out there and then. Merida opened her mouth to challenge his aloofness, but the swaggering idiot piped up again.

"Well, more clones is good in my book," Rick said. "What with our Reaper attacks getting stronger."

"Yeah…" the rotund man chimed in. "Here's to Jonesy. Best checkers player in Perdition. Bonehead got too close to the edge - bastards yanked him down and tore him apart."

Merida suppressed a shiver; she had heard stories of Reapers and the bloodthirsty ferocity of their attacks, but hadn't seen one in all its gory glory. Judging by the sage-like nod from Pitch as she glanced at him, he had.

"Well maybe the new weapons will help," Handlebar mused.

Merida exchanged glances with Pitch, mirroring his frown, and then attempted to observe the scene through the corner of her eye.

"New what-now?" the black-haired man said.

"Heard from a friend of a friend who works in the Hoffertech R-and-D place. Apparently they're testing some new submachine pulse gun. Supposed to make the rifles obsolete."

The black-haired man's scoff was loud, derisive, and wholly intended to make Handlebar sound like an idiot. "Hell, Bubba. You'll believe anythin'."

"What, like you believed you were gonna pass the militia exam, Buck?" Bubba retorted.

"That's cold, dude," Rick said, wincing.

Buck seemed to let it slide with a dismissive wave. "S'alright. I'll kick his ass later."

The rotund man was next to offer his opinion. "Maybe Bubba's onto something. Be better than single shot rifles, that's for sure."

Rick guffawed loudly. "Hah! You're right. Damn things are better if ya swing 'em like clubs. Single shot versus those fast little fuckers? Waste of goddamn time."

"Hear hear," Buck said, raising his bottle

"Say, how's the ball'n'chain, Steve?"

Merida caught the rotund man snap back with a correction of his wife's name before she automatically closed off her ears to the conversation - sexist remarks weren't exactly jewels of intel to be gathered. She glanced over at Pitch, who was busy finishing off his tankard.

"D'ye think it's true about tha rifles?"

Pitch merely shrugged as he put the tankard back on the table and smacked his lips. "We won't know for sure until we see them."

A smirk of smugness curled at her lips as she gave him a pointed, teasing look. "Well, ye know one thing now - more clones in tha settlements. Which means-"

"Which means Snow Queen was telling the truth, and therefore so were the rest of you." He glared at her through the corner of his eyes. "I'm aware of that."

"So, are ye gonna say ye're sorry?"

Pitch rolled his eyes and huffed with exasperation. "I never apologise."

Merida narrowed her eyes into a searing glower that went well with the menacing finger brandished at him. "Yer tha most stubborn-"

"That is true."

"-arrogant-"

"That is also true."

"-prickly arsehole I ever met," she finished. Pitch simply looked at her like he was waiting for when the insult would arrive. Scoffing grumpily, she snatched up her tankard for a sassy sip - only to find she'd drained it over the course of the eavesdrop. "An' I'm gonna get another drink."

She abruptly stood and marched over to the bar, holding up two fingers to the wizened-looking barman, and spent the next half-minute grumbling under her breath about " _obstinate lanky pillocks"_ while she waited. All she was trying to do was get along with him, so their crazy situation would be a little more bearable. No, he had to be as stubborn as Angus. What you saw was what you got. If he liked you, you knew about it. If not, you _definitely_ knew. That was the vibe.

Refreshing honesty from a man.

"Well, hey there. Ain't seen a pretty girl like you round these parts."

And then there was the other type. The one whose voice set off a simmering nausea in the pit of her stomach. She let loose a quiet groan as her eyes went to heaven - had Pitch stuck a sign on her back that said HIT ON ME or something?

She didn't bother turning around. "Lay off tha pisswater then, and ye might see a wee bit clearer."

"Oho!" Rick guffawed. Merida's entire left side tensed in response to him leaning on the bar a foot away. "You've got fire. I like that. Can I buy you a drink?"

"I'm quite capable of buyin' ma own drinks," Merida said as the barman returned, the two tankards shaking in his trembling hands.

"Sure you could," Rick said as he attempted to hand over some credits, but the barman was too busy with Merida practically shoving her coin hands. Frustration and anger burned like a campfire in her chest, forcing her to take deep breaths and unclench her fists around the handles of the tankards. "But how about I start this off with a nice white synthwine for a lady like you?"

Stars, how strong was the temptation to throw her _Widowmaker_ in his face. It'd be satisfying enough to watch it melt his skin. Fucking _wine,_ indeed. The guy had about as much charm as a mossy rock. She turned, and started off toward Pitch, who had taken his attention to his book. "Not interested, laddie."

"Aww, c'mon," Rick said as he followed her, "Pretty sure I could show you a better time than your boyfriend over there. Why don't you come sit with me?"

A low growl made an appearance from her throat. "One, he's nae my boyfriend. Two, if I _wanted_ one at this point in time, I could do a lot better than ye."

Arsehole didn't know when to quit. Any more of it and she was likely to flip out.

"What about a one time thing then, huh?" Rick persisted, much like the common cold. "What say you and I get outta here and go to my place?"

She had just barely reached their table when her body was jolted forward with the force of the spank on her right buttock cheek, causing a soft crack that went not so well with the stinging sensation blossoming from the contact. Her entire body went rigid, her jaw fused shut, and her hands shook with rage.

How dare he spank her ass.

"That's what I'm talking about," came his voice from behind her. She looked down at Pitch, who was busy covering his face with the palm of his hand and sighing in exasperation. She caught him mutter the words " _take out the camera behind you,"_ under his breath.

Merida inhaled a _long_ breath through her nose and out of her mouth, and then plastered a sweet smile her face. Slowly, robotically, she bent down and lovingly placed the tankards on the table. "I am _so_ sorry," she said.

"S'alright," Rick chuckled, "you can make it up to me at my place."

Straightening up, her smile fell like a stone. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and she rolled her shoulders back just before picking up one of their empty beer bottles by the neck.

"I wasnae talkin' tae ye."

She whirled around, and the right hook she applied at light speed into his jaw took him by complete surprise, before smashing the camera with an impeccably accurate underarm throw of the bottle. Out cold from the single punch - _fucking glassjaw,_ she remarked bitterly in her mind - Rick spun sideways and crashed over the empty table between hers and his friends, crumpled and motionless.

The entire bar froze in silent disbelief, stunned enough the drop of a pin could be heard, and stared at her - not that she cared. Unzipping her hoodie to reveal a black vest, she threw it off her shoulders, glared down at Rick's remaining friends, and said, "Next!"

Buck roared in rage and surged around his table, aiming a wild left swing she effortlessly ducked, spun around him and, grasping the back of his shirt, helped his momentum carry his face into her table.

Bubba was next, closely followed by the rotund man. Merida felt a surge of worry glancing between them, conscious of her comparatively diminutive physique. Thinking quickly, she snatched up her tankard and thrust the contents into Bubba's face, who screeched in pain as his hands shot up to protect his eyes. Sidestepping the wild right swing, she pushed his right arm the rest of the way and let his blind momentum carry him several steps into another table, causing him to collapse over it and knock the resting drinks over the surprised bar patrons.

Surprised, and furious - whilst raising her left arm to block a poor haymaker from the round man and countering with a flawless right hook followed by right elbow to his nose, she heard a yell of, "That was my wife's wine, ya dumbass!" before the sound a dull thud and a cry of pain.

A yell of "Bitch!" came from behind her, and she turned just as Buck's right fist collided with her left cheek, twisting her entire upper body around with the force. A bitter, coppery taste danced upon her tongue, and as she touched the inside of her lower lip, she noticed a faint crimson on her fingertips.

She looked up at him, his face wracked with uncertainty… and smirked.

"That all ye got, big boy?"

Buck's eyes widened in fury before he sputtered something rude, and charged at her with another right swing. Reacting automatically, Merida blocked it with her left forearm, drove her right forearm into the same spot to numb the area, and then spun into a right jab into his solar plexus, sending the subsequently winded man back a few steps.

A pair of arms tightly wrapped themselves around her body, pinning her arms to her chest. "I could have shown ya a good time," Rick whispered in her ear - evidently she didn't hit him hard enough.

"This _is_ a good time, ya tosser!" she hissed, and lifted her feet up to kick against a nearby table. Rick staggered back with the force, taking them both down to the ground, and on her way Merida managed to catch a glimpse of the full blown bar brawl that had ensued. Fists flew, bottles and glasses were flung every which way, going well with the symphony of thumps and wooden crashes.

Sprawling on the ground, Merida jabbed her right elbow into his chest and quickly rolled off him in time to see a bottle sail wide over her head and crash over the bar counter. Only vaguely aware of a blossom of amber light in her peripheral vision, she saw Rick scramble to his feet with a heavy wince. She lashed her arm around his head into a lock, and thumped him twice in his crown before looking up at Pitch.

Infuriatingly, he seemed largely uninterested in the conflict around him.

"Oh, no, ye just sit right there!" Merida angrily yelled over the violent commotion at Pitch, as she tightened the headlock around Rick, punching him twice more in the head for good measure, and sent him on his merry way to the floor. "I've got this completely under control!"

Buck charged at her for a blind swing, but was sent flying backwards courtesy of one of her boots to his chest. Eyes still engrossed in his book, Pitch lifted his tankard out of harm's way just before Buck crashed into the table, and responded with an infuriatingly casual voice, "Is that why the bar is on fire?"

Merida threw a quick glance toward the bar just before ducking a haymaker from yet another bar patron, and rewarding his bravery with a punch to his solar plexus followed by an elbow to his back as he doubled over, sending him crashing to the ground. Sure enough, through the dozens of bodies all engaged in a vicious bar brawl - the bar counter was indeed aflame. For a few moments, Merida wondered if she was the one who started the fire.

Not that she had much time to think further upon the topic; with a roar of rage, yet _another_ patron came barreling toward her wielding a flimsy wooden stool, intent on bringing it down on her head. Elegantly sidestepping the strike, she applied a kick to the back of his left knee and another right up his backside, sending him crashing into the floor. Not two seconds later, she felt the arrival of a pair of arms wrapping themselves around her chest in a bear hug, and their owner was strong enough that despite her struggling and yelled curses, he lifted her off the ground. Judging by the smell, it was Buck. The man who once wielded the stool scrambled to his feet and aimed a punch toward her abdomen, his face contorted with snarling, frothing rage - with a grunt of effort, Merida grabbed onto the neck of Buck, who was squeezing her tight enough to suffocate, and lifted her legs into the air, landing them on Stool-Guy's shoulders, where she crossed them at the ankles around his neck. Elsa called it the Human Hammock.

With a yell of _get-the-hell-off-me_ anger, she rolled her entire body weight to the right, causing both men to lose their footing and topple down for a harsh meeting with the floor. Quickest to recover yet still on her side, body stinging with the sudden drop, Merida drove her left boot into Stool-Guy's face whilst yelling, "Feel free tae jump in anytime, ye lanky pillock!"

There was an audible sigh of exasperation even over the clamour of a mass bar fight. Scrambling to her feet, she drove a knee into Buck's nose just as he too was in the process of getting up, and glanced over at the table in time for Pitch to huff.

"Fine." He closed and pocketed his book, drained the remnants of the _Widowmaker_ from his tankard, and promptly hurled it in her direction, his trench coat swirling elegantly with the violent movement. Eyes widening in shock, Merida jerked backwards with a gasped curse to avoid the metal object hurtling toward her - though when the sound of a wet crunch and a guttural howl of pain reached her ears, she figured it wasn't aimed at her. No, the lucky recipient of the projectile tankard was Buck, who was about to bring a stool leg down on Merida's neck. Blood streaming from between the hands desperately trying to stem the flow, Buck staggered backwards only to trip over an unconscious barfly. Pitch began walking towards her, stopping once to block a wild swing from one of the more inebriated patrons and counter it with a quick one-two to his chest and a sucker punch to his jaw that sent him across one of the nearby tables. Merida, wearing a smirk of her own, noticed how Pitch's lips were curled into a mildly entertained smile.

"Do all bar visits end like this with you?" he asked her as soon as he pulled up to stand by her side, watching the chaotic brawl with amused eyes. Grateful for the reprieve from the non-stop melee, Merida chuckled as she turned toward the end of the bar that was _not_ aflame, and leaned over it to grab two bottles of synth-beer from under the counter.

"Only the best ones," she answered as she passed him one of them, and proceeded to twist off the lid once her hand was free. Taking a swig, she nearly choked in laughter as a man was sent stumbling from the melee into Pitch's chest, only for him to be roughly turned on his heel with one hand by the grumpy Ghost and pushed right back in with a boot to his backside. Finally, someone who knew how to have a little fun.

Movement caught her eye - not that it as in any way hard, given their environment - from the general area Pitch previously vacated: Buck had managed to stem the bleeding from his nose, and was being cautiously pushed toward them by Stool-Guy, the one who took a swing at Pitch, and Rick. She tapped him on the arm with the back of her beer-hand, and gestured with a slightly inclined head toward them. "Looks like they're queuing up," she said before taking a deep draught.

Pitch took a swig and swallowed before responding. "Well, they're excited," he said, and tossed the bottle aside where it smashed against the floor. He turned to her, and eyes twinkling with golden amusement, gestured toward the clearly nervous men and said, "Ladies first."

"Why thank ye, kind sir," Merida said with a wicked grin as she launched herself toward them, the black mass in the cusp of her right eye telling her Pitch was keeping step. Buck surged toward them with a right hook and a crazed yell - weaving out of the swing's way to behind him, Merida spun on her right foot and applied a brutal snap left kick to his face as he whirled around. She glimpsed Pitch as, like some sort of dance, he wrapped his trench coat's tail around Rick's head and twisted around him to trap it whilst delivering a graceful back kick to knock Stool-Guy to the floor.

The one who attacked Pitch came at her a little too nervously - laughing with mischief, she startled him by running at him, leaped into his arms, and hooked her right arm around his head before using her body weight to roll off and drag him down with her. Like a blur across her vision as she scrambled to her feet, Pitch forcefully untwisted his coat around the struggling Rick's head to send him away in a dazed spin, and dropped him with a quick sweeping kick.

"Ye know," she called, pausing to parry away a strike from Buck, hit him with a one-two in the face, and deliver a spin kick into his chest that sent him back down to the floor, "ye're pretty handy in a fight!"

Wincing, Buck struggled to his feet, helped up by the recovering man she previously floored. Holding her fists before her, she backed away a couple of feet until she bumped into someone else's back - whirling around, she came face to face with Pitch.

She was too distracted to see Buck bend down for something.

"You're not so bad either," he said, half-smirking down at her, "for a _human."_

 _Oh, if only ye knew,_ she thought.

Pitch's eyes moved above her for a moment, and she heard the sharp intake of breath a second before his eyes widened to their limit.

"Watch out!" he yelled, his voice chilling her heart. Her head whipped around.

It happened so fast she barely registered it. She felt hands grip her upper arms like a pair of vices, a split second before she was involuntarily twisted around. Black encompassed her vision, and it was when she heard the wet thud, the shatter of glass and the curdling roar of pain that she realised what Pitch had done.

"PITCH!" she cried out.

His body slumped against her, head flopping against her shoulder, nearly pushing her backwards. Heart racing with worry, she carefully shifted their weight to the right and gently lowered him to the ground. Her eyes did a quick once-over - the left side of his head was soaked with something wet under her hand, clinging his black hair to his scalp, and blood seeped from three vicious-looking slashes near his temple hairline. His eyes were unfocused, dazed and lidded, and when she drew her hand back, crimson coated her palm and fingers.

Somewhere behind her, a voice quietly said, "That was too far, man."

"Oh, Pitch, ye stupid bastard," she hissed at Pitch, glaring at him. "Why'd ye hafta go an' do that?"

"Saw the bottle coming for your head. Seemed like a good idea at the time." He chuckled languidly as he tried to pull himself up with his left arm. "Beginning to reconsider."

"Ye didn't need ta protect me," she muttered. She looked up at his head wound again - it looked serious.

"Noted for future reference," Pitch said.

"Wait!" called out another voice, one she recognised as Bubba. "Those eyes. I remember those eyes. He's the freak Jenny said tried to rape her."

"That was years ago, man, you sure?" Buck added.

"Sure as you got your ass kicked by a girl half your size."

Merida looked at Pitch, who gazed back at her in a few moments of focus. His face was impassive, though slightly taut with his injury. She searched him - there wasn't much she knew about him, bar what he said at the church, but everything since then screamed that they were lying. She could trust him.

She offered her hand. The sluggish daze returning, he looked down at it for a moment, then back up. "We need ta get ye home," she whispered. "There a backdoor ta this place?

"I'm… fine," he said in a grumpy growl. "Just a headache."

"Laddie, ye took a hit from a full bottle that woulda put an ordinary man in tha regeneration ward - or tha morgue," she snapped in a shout-whisper, and made a beckoning gesture. "Quit bein' manly an' let me help ye."

Pitch stared at her for a few moments before huffing and _attempting_ a roll of his eyes. He gave in, and gripped her wrist, allowing her to pull him to his feet. The blood was flowing down the left side of his face, and he swayed a little on his feet. "Behind the bar," he said. In the lower part of her vision, Merida noticed his hand retrieve something from his pocket and press it into hers. She looked down - a matt black knife.

"We'll need a… distraction."

Merida curled the left side of her lips into a smirk. The knife was metal.

Metal was a _conductor._

"I got just tha thing,"

"Lady," Rick declared, "you can walk outta here. We just want him."

Pitch looked over her head, and his lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. "Come and… get me, then, you misogynist mundane."

"Last warning, little lady." Buck's voice was low and menacing. "Walk away."

Merida felt the red mist descend once again. Her mind clouded with hot anger, the same heat pulsing through her body. Her fingers tightened around the knife's handle in a downward grip, and she spun around, bringing her knife hand and left fist up in readiness.

"I am no mere girl!" she snarled, glaring pure fire at each of the four men, "I am Merida, first born o' the family Dunbroch - an' I'll not let ye touch ma friend!"

Buck's face twisted into a furious grimace, but just as he made to surge toward her, the doors of the bar burst open. Militia members wielding stun pistols poured into the bar, yelling at the patrons to freeze and get down on the ground. Six pairs of eyes snapped to the newfound commotion, and four pairs of knees sank to the ground. If she didn't extract Pitch soon, he was a dead man.

Tossing the knife so the blade was caught by her thumb and forefinger, she looked up at the barely-safe lights hanging above their heads. Her power buzzed within, charging the metal knife with her electrical gift, and she curled her arm around her chest to fling the blade at the closest light.

There was a tiny shatter, followed by a crackle and a snap as the lights surged and burst out, and the bar was instantly bathed in oppressive, safe darkness, save for the pitifully small flames on the bar.

She ducked back and blindly fumbled for Pitch's left arm to rest on her shoulders, and with no small amount of haste and more than a few winced curses as she bumped into the corners of the bar itself, she led Pitch out of the building and into the chilly night.

Getting out of Perdition was the easy part - what was difficult was going to be how she was to explain his injury to his team.

A Ghost injured in the company of an ex-Valkyrie?

Never a good look.


	46. It's Been a Long Day

 

" **It's Been a Long Day"**

"English!" Jack yelled at Merida, as he stood at the edge of his bed less than six feet away from her, her face flitting between defiance and scolded guilt. "Do you understand it?"

Snow Queen glanced between them, that braid sat on her shoulder, her arms folded across her hooded sweater covered chest. She'd followed them for reasons Jack didn't care about into his office-slash-bedroom, after Jack had sternly ordered Merida to accompany him. Hands on his hips, Jack glared at the curly redhead, whose posture was that of the standard _attention_ stance. Bolt upright, hands at the sides. Classic military drill.

"Considerin' ma ancestral nation is right nextdoor ta England, I'd say — yes sir," Merida answered.

Jack's dark eyebrows shot into his hair. He took a step forward - she was roughly Snow Queen's height by his estimation, so he had to lean down to meet her eye level. "Oh, snark!" he said, his voice loud and void of its laidback quality. "Brilliant! So you know ' _subtlety'_ means, then?"

He was cynically thankful no-one who truly knew him was in the room, as him talking of subtlety was hilarious. His inner Jack was already shuddering in theatrical pain.

Merida's lips clasped shut. She lifted her chin and met him gaze for gaze. It had the effect of both heightening Jack's anger and earning a small amount of respect - she knew she'd stepped in it, but wasn't trying to avoid facing the music.

"Shall I tell you, then? It means quiet, stealthy, staying in the shadows. _Not_ starting a fucking bar fight in the middle of Perdition, getting one of _my_ team injured - and recognised! Worse than that - you freaking _told_ them who you are!" Jack threw his hands into the air, and there was the sound of skin on fabric as they flopped down against his thighs. "Do you even _get_ how stupid that was? You pretty much waved a sign to Unity that says, ' _here I am, come get me'!"_

He turned and paced a perpendicular line across her. "What did I say right at the start-stay under the fucking radar! Don't stand out. Don't attract attention. Your anonymity is your armor, but thanks to your little brawl, once those clowns start talking, Larsen is gonna know _exactly_ where to look! It's not just us on the line, Perdition is too-"

"If I may interject, sir?"

Jack rounded on Snow Queen, whose stance had switched to _at-ease._ "What? And for the love of snowballs, stop calling me ' _sir'._ "

"I have been thinking about what Larsen did to us-precisely, how. My belief is that he does not want to attract the Unifier's attention any more than we do, or he would not have been so clandestine. I believe Perdition will be safe."

Jack shrugged, staring at her with mild incredulity. "But we won't." Pointing in a westerly direction, he added, "The militia'll be sending out search parties soon, for a traitor and a Ghost. How long do you think it'll be before they find this place?"

One of Snow Queen's eyebrows arched. "Are you afraid of those unskilled thugs?"

Jack threw out a bitter guffaw, one that seemed to give both ex-Valkyries a start. "Them? If Merida can take four on her own… they aren't the problem. What comes _after_ them? That's what I'm afraid of." He looked at Merida. The way her eyes fell to the ground, how her shoulders sagged a little… she didn't think about the consequences.

There was a moment of silence as Jack's mind ticked over, feeling the frustration dwindle away. How could she have fully understood the risks? For the Ghosts, sneaking into a hostile settlement was just another Tuesday, but for four ex-soldiers who never possessed the need for stealth and subtlety, it was a complete reversal. There were bound to be slip-ups.

If he was honest with himself, he expected Astrid to be the one who fucked up, not Merida.

He stared at her for a few more seconds before inhaling and exhaling a deep breath - a sigh of resignation. "This Rick guy, you said he touched you inappropriately, and that's what started it all? And Pitch got hit trying to protect you?"

Merida gave a slow nod as her eyes rested themselves on the wall ahead of her. "Yes, sir."

Jack chewed at his lower lip whilst he studied her. Try as he might, he couldn't fault her reaction. No woman should endure that. A slow sigh escaped his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose - how annoying it was to feel pissed off and then realise that he _couldn't_ be… except for the ' _sir'_ part.

"What intel did you get?" he asked her.

She looked at him and swallowed briefly before answering. "There's a heavy storm on its way. It shouldnae be long before it hits."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, sir. More clones are gonna be stationed in each settlement, and Hoffertech is testin' a new submachine pulse gun. Apparently it'll make tha rifles a thing o' tha past."

More clones, and a new breed of firearm. The days ahead were looking better and better. He made a mental note to get hold of one for Hiccup to dismantle and inspect - whether or not he would pluck it from a fallen clone was up for debate.

"Alright." He scratched at his right eyebrow. "Grab your gear and be ready to move out in ten minutes."

Merida frowned, blinking. "We're leavin'?"

"This safe house is now compromised, thanks to you and Pitch. I wanna be long gone by the time they come-"

The thunderous sound of the sky cracking open shook the house. Jack's head whipped to the window, eyeing the small view of the darkened world with uncertainty. Humanity didn't scare him much… but Mother Nature could be _terrifying._ The rain would be coming, soon.

"And then there's that," he murmured. Turning back to the two women, he studied Merida's rigid form for a few moments, before declaring, "You're dismissed."

Merida stiffly saluted him before turning to leave the room.

"Oh, and one more thing-"

She turned and fixed him with an expectant look. The left side of his lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"Break his fucking face, next time."

Merida offered him her second confused frown of the meeting, seconds before a small smile tugged at her lips. She gave a single nod before opening the door and closing it behind her.

Jack turned his head to Snow Queen, who still yet watched him with a thoughtful look. He could see her jaw tense and relax in between dips of her lower lip into her mouth.

"Got something to say?"

She lifted her chin. "Yes. It wasn't your place to treat my friends the way you did," she said with the cold air of a winter breeze.

Jack's eyebrows rose, and as he adjusted his feet, he folded his arms across his chest. "You requested asylum, so that puts you and your friends under my command."

She shook her head, and folded her arms, taking two steps toward him. "I was referring to Rapunzel."

A long breath escaped Jack's nose whilst he gazed down at her. She looked strong. In control. Protective.

"Thanks to her, an innocent teenage boy is getting justice," he said, challenge in his voice. "You're on the losing end of a war, now. Sometimes you have to break the rules."

Snow Queen snorted. "Don't you dare try to justify it. She was bait."

"She needed to know what being tailed felt like."

Snow Queen stepped forward. "Neither she nor I was aware nor consented."

Jack stood his ground, though his hands clenched into fists under his arms. "Would have ruined the point."

"The point of what, Frost? Putting my friend in a dangerous-"

"Twenty-nine."

Jack's abrupt blurt seemed to stop Snow Queen's impending rant in its tracks. Her mouth hung open mid-sentence while her eyes searched his face in puzzlement. "What?"

Jack's eyes took on a dark look. "Twenty-nine was a settlement. The Archon of which was threatened with his family's imprisonment, into acting as bait to draw out a scout team, and then the Furies. Guess who did the threatening?"

Snow Queen's face paled, her eyes widening, and Jack caught the quiet yet sharp intake of breath. Her arms shifted at the bottom of his vision from a defensive cross to a protective embrace. Her gaze fell to his chest.

"Bingo," he said in a low, stern tone. "Your friend was never in any danger—your sister made sure of that. _Our_ friends _never came home."_

It was strange. Seeing her upright, regal, composed posture crack and disintegrate in a few short sentences, reducing her to a deflated shell was guilt-inducing, and Jack internally admonished himself for going below the belt.

"Piece of advice, Snow Queen," he said, continuing nonetheless, "you wanna take the moral high ground, you'd better make _damn_ sure you're sitting on a mountain."

There was something in the way she then looked up at him, like her face was desperately trying to retain composure but behind the eyes… turmoil reigned like a chaotic queen. She was so far removed from the deadly force of nature he'd locked weapons with, especially still clad in her incognito clothes.

Jack let loose a defeated sigh - he didn't feel like much of a leader, just someone with a grudge. Everything Neve said he shouldn't be. Scratching at his left temple, he turned toward the bed and flopped down on the mattress, causing one hell of a creak. He leaned his elbows on his knees and wiped his hands down his face. Glancing up at Snow Queen, he noticed how she was gently frowning at the floor, and could almost _see_ her mind work.

"Take a seat," he said. With a mild start, Snow Queen looked between him and the space beside him, and hesitated for a few moments before doing just that, dipping the mattress a foot away. Silence reigned between them, filled with words Jack had no idea how to speak, and things she wanted to say, but couldn't. Until...

"I'm trying to hate you," he said abruptly. She looked up at him, eyes dancing between his.

"After all that's happened, I want to hate you. But I can't. I can't hate someone who was as much a victim as we were. Now, with Merida's intel… you've given blooming abnormals a chance to survive. So-y'know-sorry for what I just said... and thank you for what you did."

Snow Queen regarded him warily for a few moments. "You're not joking with-"

"Look, if you want me to take it back-"

"No, no!" She blurted, throwing her hands up in peace. "I'll take it. You just surprised me, that's all."

Jack threw her a glance, and nodded before looking back at the floor, rubbing his hands together. It felt _weird._ Apologising to someone who… sometimes scared him.

"She was a fierce opponent, Beauty."

Jack looked at her sideways. Snow Queen's eyes rested on the floor while she wore the quintessential frown of memory, and pulled her right sleeve up to reveal a thin scar across her inner forearm. Courtesy of _Rosepetal_ , Jack presumed.

"In my career as a Valkyrie, there were but two opponents I could not defeat. You are one, she was the other. She truly was a skilled swordswoman," she added, pulling the sleeve back down.

"She was also a teacher," Jack murmured. Snow Queen looked over and regarded him with raised eyebrows of interest. Her eyes looked dead into his, like it was knowledge she craved.

"She was?"

"Yep." Jack let out a quiet chuckle. "She taught the kids about pre-war books, art that Unity tried to erase. She loved roses, music… she was the only person I knew who could make Pitch _really_ smile."

"I didn't know," Snow Queen whispered.

Jack snorted, earning him a mildly perturbed look. "You're not supposed to. They don't like soldiers with a conscience, so they dehumanise the enemy. Make you forget that when you take someone's life, someone somewhere just lost a person they love. Brother, sister, wife, husband, whatever. People forget that all the time. That's why we have the sixth rule."

Elsa repeated the fabled words. Damn, her memory was good. "No killing save for imminent threat of death."

Nodding slowly, Jack said, "Right on. We only kill as a last resort, 'cause if we do, we turn that person into a memory."

"What about you?" she asked. "What did you do outside of battle?"

Jack shrugged, his lips quirking. "I am…" he hesitated, lips parted. God, how he missed his kids. Jamie, with his curiosity and faith. "I was a kindergarten teacher."

The room was once more graced with moment of silence save for another roar from the sky outside. His hands still unsure of what to do with themselves, he stroked at the small bristles on his chin, and immediately made a mental note to shave at the earliest opportunity.

It was when he threw her a quick glance, wondering why _she_ was so silent, that he caught her staring at him with an unreadable look in her eyes.

"... what?"

"I was wrong about you," she answered as her head gently shook, barely above a whisper, while her brow furrowed. "The whole of Unity was wrong about you."

He issued a bitter snort and responded in a dry voice, barely wavering in tone. "Welcome to my world. We have the ever-present threat of death, crazy powers… and cookies."

Expecting a giggle - or at the very least, a titter - Jack shot her another glance, wondering why silence was all he received. He was bemused to find her staring at him, her mouth parted as though in preparation, her brows furrowed while her eyes scanned him.

"Keep staring like that, I might do a trick..." he said offhandedly.

"Frost… I… "

Her voice was faint, just over a whisper.

"What?"

She looked down at her hands. "I… I have…"

Jack adjusted his position so he could face her. "Have what?"

There was a strange tightness in his chest. So _weird._ It was like his breath was being held in stasis, waiting for whatever it was she wanted to say. He watched as she stared at her palms as though wary of them. "There's-"

Three heavy knocks reverberated across the room, so lost was he in the moment that it gave both them a start. Jack's eyes snapped to the door, and noticed in his peripheral vision Snow Queen hastily pocketing her hands. He glanced back at her - the uncertainty had vanished behind a deep frown, and she had returned to a stiff posture.

Rubbing his right palm across his forehead, he sighed out an exasperated, "Yello."

The door clicked open. Hiccup stepped halfway through the door. "Hey, Frost, you got a…" The optimistic smile he wore fell away upon noticing them. "Sorry, is this a bad time?"

"No, I was just leaving," Snow Queen blurted before Jack even opened his mouth. She rose from the bed and strode out of the room with her head high - Hiccup barely moved aside in time, and when Astrid followed him inside, she did so with her head over shoulder.

"Did I interrupt-"

"What's up, Fury?" Jack felt in no mood for twenty questions. "And close the door, wouldja?"

Jack watched him turn to Astrid and give her a nod as he walked past her to close the door. The tall blonde took position a few feet away from Jack and stood to attention with a salute.

"Sir, I have a request," she announced as he returned her salute.

Jack's face dropped to an incredulous frown-gape, and he threw a hand into the air. "Again with the sir-Fury, do I _look_ old?"

Taking the space a few feet to Astrid's right, Hiccup simply pocketed his hands and swayed on the balls of his feet, offering a smirk. "Well, your hair _is_ white."

Jack's jaw dropped, and his face adopted a haunted look while he ran a hand through his messy hair. "That's it. I'm getting my hair dyed." Casting a glance at Astrid, who was still as rigid as a pole, he then added, "Stand easy, soldier, before you pull something. Jeez."

Astrid's face wore a mildly bemused expression, yet she did as such, spacing her feet apart and her hands behind her back.

"So what's the request?"

Astrid took one look at Hiccup, whose response was an encouraging nod. "Request permission to go off-site."

Jack's eyebrow arched. "Why?"

"I have a good friend who hates Unity as much as we do. I want to bring her here. I think she could really help the Ghosts."

"Toothless and I would go with her," Hiccup added quickly.

Jack studied her for a few moments, whilst she watched him in turn. Pushing himself up from the bed, he folded his arms and adopted his best attempt at a poker face. "Where?"

"She lives in a forest near my family home, about a hundred miles west of New Arendelle."

Jack's eyebrows shot into his hair. "That's a day's round trip deep into enemy territory. I'm sorry, Astrid, but the answer's no."

As expected, her face cut into an indignant scowl, and her hands found her hips. "No?"

"Chief, we can do it," Hiccup tried to interject, positioning himself between them at their sides.

Jack dipped his head a little as his left hand was pulled out of his crossed arms. "That's not the point, Fury. You'd both be alone, without backup, near Unity's biggest city. Not to mention the rest of us will be without air support if things go sideways on us. I can't let you do it, Fury. I won't be there to help if you get into trouble."

"We won't. We'll be-"

"You still don't trust us."

Both pairs of eyes turned to Astrid, who was frowning at Jack. Her eyes radiated disappointment, like she expected better of him. Another thundercrack rattled the windows.

"I'm starting to," he answered, which drew an almost imperceptible look of surprise from Hiccup, "but not enough for something like this."

Astrid flinched as though his words had physically struck her. What was she expecting, a cheerful ' _okay, have fun, kids,"_ and a waved handkerchief? It was a hell of a gamble, was the payoff of a ' _friend'_ only Astrid knew worth it?

"If you're concerned she might hurt me, she won't." Hiccup moved a step forward, and when his face morphed to that of an imploring friend, Jack felt his resolve begin to crumble. "Even if she tried, we both know Toothless would see it coming before I did. He'd protect me… or avenge me."

Jack chewed at his lower lip, meeting his X.O. gaze for gaze. "And if Toothless isn't there?"

Hiccup fell silent. It was a weakness, his reliance on Toothless. Together, they were unstoppable; separated, they were vulnerable. Jack wasn't ignorant to the irony.

"Whatever you may think of me," Astrid said, breaking the silence with more conviction he had ever heard from her, "you can be sure that like Anna had Rapunzel's back, I will have Hiccup's. You have my word."

Jack studied her for a moment while he let her words mull over in his mind. Hiccup seemed sure, and Astrid was radiating honesty from every angle.

Not to mention - she used Hiccup's first name. Was he _that_ comfortable around her so soon?

Neve said to take a chance. Maybe this was the chance. Inhaling a lungful of cold air, he let it out in a long flow, before circling his bed and dropping to his knees to pull out a duffel from under it.

"Make it a two day trip-" he tossed the bag onto the bed, "-and bring the _Fairy_ back while you're at it."

Astrid's face lit up like an artillery barrage, whilst Hiccup went to unzip the bag. His face was promptly bathed in a pleasant orange glow, and he looked up at Jack in surprise. "The _Valhalla's_ fuel cell."

"Uh-huh." Jack folded his arms and glared at the two of them. "Night flying only, radio in every four hours. Meet us at the last safehouse before the Canadian border - Hiccup knows where it is. You leave now, you might be able to beat the storm."

Astrid glanced between him and Hiccup, a wild grin pulling at the corners of her lips. Hiccup wore a smile of his own and gave him a playful salute. "Aye-aye, Cap."

"Thank you, sir," Astrid quickly added. "You won't regret it."

Her gratitude was rewarded with an exasperated groan. "You can thank me by not calling me sir," Jack said, rolling his eyes. "Oh, and my X.O. comes back with so much as a scratch, there'll be hell to pay."

Astrid gave him a far more respectful salute than Hiccup - for a moment, Jack wasn't sure which one he preferred. "Not a scratch."

Hiccup zipped up the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder before making for the door, Astrid hot on his heels. Jack watched them talk quietly to each other, remarking to himself how at ease Hiccup seemed to be around her. How the conversation he semi-overheard between Rapunzel and Anna appeared nothing but friendly… and _Pitch_ of all people took a hit for Merida.

Maybe it was more than simply getting along, for the Ghosts and the ex-Valkyries. Maybe none of them wanted to be alone anymore.

He understood that better than most.

Hiccup, his head over his shoulder in quiet murmured conversation with Astrid, reached out for the door handle and pulled it open - only to bump into Jack's _next_ visitor, wearing a face of startled surprise.

"Whoa, almost got me!" Anna blurted out in a breathless squeak, her right hand still poised to knock.

"Oh, sorry, Streak," Hiccup said amid an stuttered laugh. "You okay-I didn't hit you, did I?"

Anna waved it off with her usual lightness as she stood aside to let them pass. "Naw - just didn't expect to see you here."

"Just needed to see the Cap about something-"

 _Cap?_ Jack wondered, bemused. That was the second time he'd been called that. Did someone implement a more detailed ranking system on the sly?

"-so we're off to pick up a friend of Astrid's, and the _Fairy,"_ Hiccup finished as he and Astrid swiftly moved past her, both eager to get away.

"How about that, I need to see the boss too," Anna said brightly. "Good luck!"

Jack yelled after them, "Not a scratch!"

"Yeah, yeah," was Hiccup's groaning reply from around the corner.

Chuckling, Anna came inside the room and closed the door behind her.

"Jeez, I'm popular tonight," Jack muttered, rubbing at the side of his face with an open hand.

"Looks that way," Anna said, a cheesy grin alighting her freckled, youthful countenance. She languidly walked toward him with her hands in her back pockets. "So, we're already going on missions together, huh?"

Jack arched an eyebrow, giving her a funny look. "And today was, what, chopped liver?"

Anna threw him an amused giggle, moving her hands to her hips. "You know what I mean, Jack."

"Uh-huh," Jack responded flatly, before parking himself on the bed facing the opposite wall. He crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his knees. "How's Koz?"

Anna clambered up on the bed and laid herself down on her side, propping her body up on her right elbow, so her feet were crossed at Jack's end. "Good news and bad news. The good news is that he's looking like he'll be fine. Nasty gash on his head, but it looks more horrible than it is 'cause, instead of immediate medical attention, they were making the three mile walk home."

Jack twisted around to look at her, uncertain concern etching itself on his face. "And the bad news?"

Anna gave him a wicked smirk. "He's still Koz."

He stared at her for a few moments, before a tired, slow chuckle made an appearance, and twisted back around. "Yeah.. that's _awful_."

"You're telling me. Worst patient ever. But it looks like he'll be okay, he just needs rest and not so blurry vision."

"Cool. Right-we're leaving in five minutes, so grab your gear and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Anna said, abruptly enough to give Jack a mild start. He twisted around once again and found Anna was regarding him with bemusement written all over her face. "Who said anything about leaving?"

Jack frowned and lamely gestured toward the door. "You just said he was fine."

Anna closed her eyes, waving ' _no'_ with her hands as she shook her head. "I said he _looks_ fine. Jack-" she pushed herself up and curled her feet under her, supporting her weight with one hand whilst the other animated her words, "-head injuries are like icebergs; you don't know what's going on below the surface."

"Like what?" he asked irritably. It was a stupid question to ask since he had a basic familiarity with first aid - but the evening was getting on his nerves.

Rain started to patter at the window. One droplet. Two. A dozen. He turned to look at the window, and within seconds the patter turned into a distracting hammer. Water pounded the glass and slid down, and a burst of light filled the room - a dazzling question of lightning preceding an answer of deafening thunder.

A heaviness promptly settled itself in Jack's chest and pitched up for the night. The wind was under the behest of its true master, no longer his friend, and he didn't dare challenge Mother Nature herself for the wind's loyalty. He was grounded.

"Brain haemorrhage, for one," Anna answered, unfazed by the thunderous storm's arrival. Merida said Koz took a hit that would put down an ordinary human, so even if his physiological changes protected him, it could still have caused problems _inside_ his noggin. If I had the equipment, I'd know for sure - but I don't, so I need to keep him under observation."

A long sigh slipped through Jack's nose, carrying with it his plans and hopes. "How long for?"

"Twelve hours, minimum."

Lost in the storm outside, his heart thumping a slow, mournful beat, Jack gave a mild start when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Anna looking at him with a sympathetic smile, her eyes twinkling in the lightning.

"I know why you're worried, Jack, and I know standard procedure is to pack up and go if we even smell trouble… but I also know you'd never forgive yourself if anything happened to Koz while we were on the road - especially with this storm. I wouldn't disobey your order unless I believed it was the right thing to do… and keeping Koz here, where he's safe, is the right thing."

Jack looked away with another exhalation of breath, and as he closed his eyes, he slowly nodded. The storm would harry any search parties from Perdition, and it would still be dark in twelve hours - they could slip out under cover of night. "Alright," he answered after a long pause, "but if we see hostiles coming before Koz is done, we're leaving no matter what."

Anna's smile became one of understanding, and she squeezed his shoulder in support. "Solid copy, Jack."

While nodding to himself, his mouth opened in a long, cavernous yawn, unfettered by his loose fist attempting to cover it. Maybe it was the prospect of being under pseudo-house arrest, or all the excitement of training Snow Queen in the art of hiding in plain sight - not to mention one hell of a kiss - but his limbs suddenly felt heavy as iron, and his mind was busy shutting down for the night.

Anna chuckled, and softly patted him on the shoulder before rising from the bed. "You look tired, Jack. Get some sleep - doctor's orders."

Shaking his head vigorously, the sentence he _attempted_ to speak was hilariously warped by another yawn. "Can't - I've got first watch."

"Elsa and I can do that." She shrugged like it was no big thing. "I need to check on Koz every two hours, anyway. I'll wake you and Rapunzel in four hours, and then she can do the checks. 'Kay?"

"It has been a long day," Jack murmured. He wasn't going to argue any more; sleep sounded _fantastic._ "Thanks, firecracker."

"No worries," Anna said, and as Jack shuffled himself up the bed and laid his head on the pillow with his back to her, he heard her footsteps creak toward the door. "I look after the wellbeing of all my friends - that includes my best friend's ass, too."

The sound of the door opening and closing reached his ears, and within a minute, Jack was peacefully snoring away.

It _had_ been a long day.

* * *

"Yeah, yeah!"

Rapunzel bolted up from the dining table as soon as she saw Astrid and Night Fury emerge from the dimly lit hallway, her heart racing, anxiety flooding her mind. The two were deep in conversation, obviously planning something by the hushed voices and how their hands waved about in precise movements, and Astrid wore the biggest smile Rapunzel had ever seen.

Having been alone in the open plan kitchen, since Anna had shepherded Pitch Black to his bedroom and Elsa had retired to hers, Rapunzel had been alone, waiting. Her chest felt tight, her mind raced, her hands played anxiously with themselves. She felt a wave of regret at having to take that smile away.

"Astrid," she quickly said with urgency, "you got a minute?"

Astrid stopped in her tracks, still wearing the smile, as her attention was drawn to the petite brunette. Night Fury too regarded her with cheerful curiosity. "Sure, Punzie. 'Sup?"

Rapunzel circled the table, her hands wringing themselves over and over, and threw a quick look behind Astrid to be sure. "I need to talk to you," she said, and as she threw a quick glance in Night Fury's direction, she added, "...alone."

Astrid's smile faltered, replaced by a frown dancing between curiosity and concern. She turned her head toward Night Fury, and said with a reassuring softness, "I'll catch up."

Night Fury's eyes danced between them for a few moments, his face morphing into a frown of anxious hesitance. "Alright, but we need to be airborne before the wind goes nuts."

"I'll be quick, I promise."

He took one last hesitant look between them before nodding his acknowledgement and leaving them in peace. Once she heard the door close behind him, Rapunzel let out the breath she had no idea she'd been holding, carrying with it her relief.

"What's wrong, Punzie?"

Rapunzel looked up at her friend's sky blue eyes, that gazed back at her in concern. Her mouth opened and closed, bursting with the need to speak but unable to find the words.

"Look, I'm on a tight-"

"Elsa caught me."

Her blurt caused a puzzled recoil from the taller woman, and a tilt of her head. Rapunzel took advantage of the moment of bemused silence to peer behind her, and then to check no-one was peering through the windows.

"Caught you doing what?" Astrid asked, "Perving at Frost, making bunny ears behind Pitch's head… what?"

"She caught me when I was about to use my powers!" Rapunzel hissed through gritted teeth.

Astrid's eyes widened as her face went slack, and Rapunzel felt a hand on her arm roughly pull her further into the kitchen. Before long, she looked up into anxiety written all over Astrid's face like a book - she seldom panicked, but could pull off unease like the best of them. "You know we're supposed to keep that a secret!" Astrid hissed.

"I know!" Rapunzel made a similarly themed gesture with her hands. "I was just-Anna's back was turned while she packed away the medkit, I was standing there behind Pitch-I had my hands over his head-then I just heard this cough from the hall. I looked up, and Elsa was looking dead in my eyes, shaking her head."

"But why did you-"

"I wanted to heal him!" Rapunzel knew her voice was likely coming off as a petulant whine, but she cared little. "I want to help Night Fury-I just want to help!"

She turned away, and held her forehead in her left hand as her right rested on her right hip, feeling her frustration and despair ebb from its peak. Her hands then moved to cup her elbows, and she closed her eyes and wished she was far, far away from there.

"I'm just so tired of hiding what I am," she murmured, soft as a feather. "First Unity, now it's what Elsa thinks the Ghosts will do… I don't want to hide it any more. I want to be free."

She felt a hand on her shoulder, attracting her eyes. Slowly, she turned around, and looked up into the sympathetic gaze of her once superior officer, who smiled down at her in reassurance.

"So we tell them. When I come back, the day after tomorrow, we'll tell them. No more hiding."

Rapunzel hunched in a little, uncomfortable at the suggestion. "Why wait?"

Wincing slightly, Astrid's voice dropped a level in volume, and she leaned in a little. "Because I'm bringing back a friend who's gonna blow their minds. We tell them _then_ , and get it all out in the open."

"But what about Elsa?"

Astrid's immediate answer was a derisive scoff. "Fuck Elsa. She's not our C.O. anymore, Frost is - and we don't know what he'll do unless _we_ tell him. Elsa wants to bury her head in the sand, pretend it's not happening-but things like this… you can't run from."

Rapunzel didn't like it one bit. Why not _now?_ Why couldn't she prove to them how useful she could be _now?_ "But-"

Astrid held up a calming hand, and Rapunzel's protests died in her throat. "Just two more days, Punzie. I know how you feel; Merida and I feel the same. Let's knock their socks off in one swoop; it's better that way. Trust me."

Frowning, Rapunzel's lower lip found its way between her teeth, as she watched her friend intently. Maybe it was better that way. Whoever Astrid was bringing back sounded big… she just hoped it was all going to be worth it.

Her mind administered a gentle rebuke; of _course_ it would be. She had long accepted who she was - it was high time the world did, too.

Astrid cut their talk short with a hurried reminder of her imminent departure, wished Rapunzel good luck - the sentiment was likewise returned - and quickly left the house before Rapunzel could say anything further.

It then hit her, as the rain began to hammer the kitchen windows like the endless volley of a rotary cannon, that she was too lost in her own worry to even ask who Astrid's friend was in the first place… and _why_ they were so secret at all.

* * *

With careful hands and even greater stealth, Merida pushed down on the handle of Pitch's bedroom door, and slunk her way inside. The night had granted her no sleep but a dozen intrusive thoughts, memories of the brawl and of Frost's words, depriving her of well needed slumber. Two in the morning, and she had given up.

The room was dark, oppressively so, save for the occasional burst of blue light through the window. Precious little possessions sat on the nightstand and the chest of drawers opposite the bed, and atop the bed itself, a humanoid shape warped the thin dark blanket in hills and valleys.

Maybe she needed to check Pitch was okay. It was her fault he was hurt after all. The least she could do was care.

Eyeing the shape on the bed for a few moments, she heard the soft, even, regular breathing of sleep. She smiled to herself and, satisfied he seemed okay, turned back to the door.

"Doctor Corona, I presume?"

Her hand froze over the handle, her breath catching in surprise. Of course he wasn't asleep - he wasn't hanging upside down from the ceiling.

"Ah, no, laddie," she said, "I cannae pull off tha bob like she can."

The sound of fabric shuffling from behind reached her ears, a second before the room was filled with a dim, pleasant amber glow. She turned to find Pitch sat up in bed, shirtless, his hand moving away from a small artificial lamp while he frowned at her. Scars crisscrossed his torso like a morbid, one-sided tic-tac-toe, long uneven lines that traced years and told stories. At some point, he had cleaned the makeup from his face and hands; his visage was back to two spheres of gold in a sea of grey.

"What are you doing here, Dunbroch?"

She looked up at his head and felt a twinge of guilt knot her chest; a white pad sat prominently over the area where the bottle smashed against his skull, held there by a thrice woven bandage around his head. She shrugged, conscious of her staring approaching the realm of rude. "Dunno. Just wanted ta check yer okay."

Pitch scoffed and leaned back against the headboard. He gestured half-heartedly to the dressing, and said in a voice of impatience, "Contrary to the opinions of our esteemed medical professionals, I'm fine. It's just a flesh wound."

"Laddie-" Merida shook her head, bored with the blase attitude, "-ye took a hit fer me that usually happens ta murder victims in crime holo-shows. They jus' wanna make sure."

"I'm fine," he persisted in an irritable grumble. "Are you going to stand there like a piece of furniture-" he gestured between her and a space at the end of the bed, "-or are you going to sit? Choose quickly; I'd like to get _some_ sleep before the next bloody checkup."

Merida looked at him for a few moments, before curling the left side of her lips up half an inch, and doing just that. As the mattress dipped under her weight, Pitch crossed his legs under the comforter and rested his wrists on his knees. It looked oddly like meditation, save for the studious gaze, with how motionless his entire body became. The left side of his body was draped in the absence of light, like the shadows themselves were caressing and embracing his grey, scarred skin. "Why are you here, Dunbroch?"

The twinge became a pang, and the knot travelled down to her stomach. She looked away and rubbed at the grooves between her knuckles. "I… I want ta say sorry fer gettin' ye hurt. I shouldnae have flipped out like that, else ye wouldnae be like this." She waved a hand in the general direction of his head. "It'll never happen again."

Silence followed her statement of regret; not a word left Pitch's mouth. No sounds graced the room save for the staccato rhythm pounding the glass, and the thunderous boom of the storm. After several seconds, she threw him a quick glance in anxiety; he still hadn't moved. His lips were fastened shut, framed by the thin black beard around his mouth, and his eyes yet watched her. It wasn't like the leers or hungry glances of Rick, but the same as before; like he was working her out.

A long breath escaped her nose, and she had spent enough time around her mother Elinor, she knew it was the breath of a decision. Pitch opened his mouth for a few seconds, before killing the silence.

"Listen closely, as this is the _only_ time I will say this." He leaned forward an inch. " _Never_ apologise for doing the right thing. Even when people don't understand."

Merida tried to chuckle away the intensity of the surrounding atmosphere, though when it came out as more of an awkward titter, she felt a small flush of self-conscious embarrassment. "Frost seemed ta understand; he told me ta break their face next time."

Pitch uttered a single grunt, seemingly an attempt at a guffaw of his own as he waved away the notion. "Frost possesses a certain nobility, one that escapes most people who do not care to look beyond the surface."

Her eyes went back to his though they flicked just the once down to his chest. It was toned yet weathered, and a scar adorned the space directly over his heart, in the irregular and imperfect shape of the letter 'X'. "I think you do, too," she remarked.

There was another grunt, though it came off as a dismissive scoff. "I'm a killer, Dunbroch. I have sent many loved ones back to their families in bags-and I regret none of it."

Merida found herself unexpectedly unfazed by his proclamation. Maybe it was the fact that every person in the house was a killer in some way, shape, or form. Even Rapunzel, who ordinarily balked at doing harm. What held her interest was the sheer conviction radiating from him. "Do ye think ye were doin' the right thing?"

"I protected or avenged my kind from the hatred levied upon them by the _humans,"_ he practically spat the word, "in their ignorance, so, yes. I do."

Merida hummed once in thought. The pit of her stomach felt the arrival of discomfort - there was a sense of racism in Pitch's attitudes to humanity, though she could not count herself as surprised, given his experiences. Nor could she count herself as human, either. Maybe that was why she wasn't as bothered by his vehemence as she thought she ought to be.

A further few moments of silence held her desire to change the subject - two o'clock in the morning was not the time for a debate. Maybe his prejudice against humans was understandable, but he couldn't fight racism with racism. To Merida, it was like trying to put out an electrical fire with a bucket of water.

Her eyes fell to the cross over his heart, and she gave it a sedate gesture. "Where'd ye get that?"

Pitch frowned and followed her eyes. His slender grey fingers stroked at the scar, slowly, like it was a memory. There was a short pause before he answered, "A remnant of a time long passed…" he trailed off, until his voice became hard and dark, "and the mark of an old flame."

Merida didn't need telling twice; the low edge to his voice was a bright sign to go no further. In any other situation she'd have ignored it - but the revelation that even _Pitch_ had a special someone once upon a time was crazy enough.

"My turn." He narrowed his eyes a little. "I gave you the knife so you could spill blood if needed. You used it to black out the bar, _all_ of it, with one throw. How?"

"I dinnae know," she said, and a shrug for emphasis. "The lighting in that bar was knackered, anyway. I guess it short circuited."

 _Nothing ta do with ye overloadin' the power system, lass,_ she thought, _but go ahead and lie ta him._

It was stupid, hiding who she was. She'd done that for years, and she was losing patience with it. Hell, _Hans_ knew what they were, so why shouldn't the Ghosts? Was it so terrifying for Elsa to accept herself?

Pitch made a thoughtful hum, but continued to watch her like a hawk; Merida thanked her stars that her hair was long and bouffant enough to hide the colour draining from her cheeks. He radiated the definition of ' _unconvinced';_ any longer in his room, and her secret would be out.

"I'm gonna leave ye ta get some sleep," she announced, rising from the bed. "Reckon I need ta snooze, myself."

Pitch watched her for a few more seconds, before slowly nodding. "As you wish."

Merida gave him a single nod and went for the door. Her left hand laced itself around the cold metal handle, but just as she turned it…

"He was an idiot."

She turned just enough to fix him with a bemused frown - having to slide back the curls on the right side of her head to rest over her shoulder. Pitch's eyes rested in the nails of his left hand, inspecting them with palpable disinterest.

"Who, Rick?"

"No." He shook his head, moving his gaze to his other hand. "The boy who broke your heart."

Merida flinched in surprise. Her left hand released the handle, and she leaned a little toward him, her eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "How did ye know about him?"

"I didn't until now." His hands laced themselves together like a studious librarian, enabling his elbows to rest on his knees. "Your expression when I talked of synthohol and arrogance in the bar, followed by your subsequent reaction, was enough of a clue."

Merida's eyes went to the ceiling as a chuckle of _should've-known_ escaped her lips. Her hands found her hips, and her curls swayed as her head shook in exasperation. "Yer an observant pillock, ye know that?"

"Yes."

It was a strange sensation, knowing someone was as hawk-eyed as she was. Possibly more so; after all, his aim was true in the Depot, and she _missed._ She felt like a spotlight was shining down upon her, and she was wide open.

"I dinnae need ye ta tell me what I already know," she replied, with half a smile curling the right side of her lips, "but thanks, anyway."

She looked at him for a few moments, and then said, "Get some sleep. Yer concussion's makin' ye say daft things."

The room heard Pitch utter another hum, before he slid down the bed, reached over to switch off the lamp, and laid facing her, his hand nestled underneath his pillow. Probably resting on a weapon, she mused with cynicism. Taking the rather obvious sign the conversation was over, she turned to open the door and stepped into the darkened hallway, a faint smile on her lips.

"Oh, hey, Red," came a bright voice from where the hallway opened into the living room. Merida's head whirled to the left in surprise, and found Rapunzel stood there, clutching the medkit. "Why were you in Pitch's room?"

Shrugging, Merida attempted a vibe of ' _noncommittal_ '. "Jus' checkin' he's okay." The vibe then vanished, if it even _was_ there to begin with, when she asked, "Is he okay?"

Rapunzel waved off her concern, throwing in a scoff for good measure, before returning her hand to the kit. "He's gonna be fine - but you know us medics. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. I'm just about to do his next check."

"Aye," Merida replied sagely. "Good luck, lass."

"Thanks!" Rapunzel said with a bubbly, upbeat voice. Merida arched a brow; she hadn't seen her this bright since meeting that Zach fellow. She moved away so Rapunzel could access the door, but as the brunette complied and reached for the handle, she stiffened bolt upright like a rod. She even _bounced._

"Oh, I almost forgot." Rapunzel turned and leaned in, and her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "The day after tomorrow: we're going to tell them."

Merida folded her arms and threw her a frown of incomprehension. "About what?"

Rapunzel's subsequent beam could rival the sun itself. "About us. What we are."

Eyes widening, Merida's jaw dropped an inch. She cast a glance either side of her, checking for cracks of light or eavesdropping eyes. "But what about Elsa?"

"Astrid and I figure we can't wait any longer. No more hiding." Rapunzel turned back to the door, before casting Merida a wistful, yearning smile. "Eight abnormals, all on the same side. Hans won't know what hit him. Imagine _that."_

Without further ado, Rapunzel opened Pitch's door and said with blinding brightness, "Time for your next round of checks!"

Merida heard Pitch's irritated snap of, "Oh, for God's sake!" before the door closed them off. Shaking her head, she chuckled to herself as she went to her room opposite, Rapunzel's words running through her mind.

_Hans won't know what hit him._

Another voice joined in; Pitch's words at the bar.

_You are now his shadow. Whatever he does from this point on, he will do knowing that someday, you will come for him._

Her right hand hesitated over the handle as an idea hit her. She was no longer a Valkyrie, so why should she be referred to by her Valkyrie callsign? She had wanted to be the Bear for so long, the roaring force of nature that intimidated and inspired alike, but even the Bear can be tricked.

And she surely was deceived, by the last man who would ever lie to her.

A smile widened, exuding resolve, belonging, and determination. She knew what she would be. She knew what she was.

She was the Hunter.

 


	47. Stormfly

" **Stormfly"**

The short winter grass under Hiccup's boots, part of the well-tended lawn stretching for what felt like acres between the Hofferson home and the forest to the east, yielded the glorious brittle crunch that only night dwelling frost could bring, that also brought with it fleeting satisfaction and anticipation of the next step. Jack once remarked it was nature's bubble wrap, whatever _that_ was.

Astrid walked a few feet at his right, her mouth as firmly closed as it had been for at least an hour by Hiccup's estimation. He chanced a few glances at her every now and then, whilst engaged in nothing but a midnight stroll toward a forest, breathing in the crisp, still winter air. Somehow it tasted more fresh than that of Perdition, but whether that was the intrinsic heavy air pressure of the oncoming storm, or the lawlessness, he didn't know. Astrid's face was etched in a light frown in danger of permanent residence, her hands swinging loosely at her sides as she walked.

Chatty, she was not nor did he peg her to be, yet long periods of silence lay firmly in Kozmotis' dominion and thus her lack of loquaciousness had awakened the feeling of disquiet in his stomach, flitting about like an agitated moth. He had assumed her reunion with her friend would have brought an optimistic variant of anticipation, yet a palpable sensation of emptiness clawed at the immediate area around her, like an inescapable black void sucking in all enthusiasm and warmth, leaving only absence and cold of greater potency than the wintry air around them.

Cold was Jack's specialty, not hers, and he wondered if her silence and closed-off demeanour had anything to do with the house several dozen yards behind them.

He looked ahead at the darkened forest, its inherent blanket of night and sinister-looking wild trees reminding him a little too acutely of _another_ pitch black environment. To stave off the ensuing chill, he adjusted the strap of the duffel bag slung over his left shoulder. "So, are you going to tell me anything about your friend-"

He felt Astrid turn her head, setting off a prickle down the right side of his face. Turning to face her with a small smile, he found her expression had changed little. Her eyebrows were no longer furrowed, so that was something.

"-or do I get three guesses?"

Her eyes lingered on him for a few moments, enough for him to question his flippancy, before she turned her gaze back to the forest ahead. Hiccup sighed through his nose, pocketing his hands and regretting opening his mouth. He took one quick look at Toothless stalking along at his left, his body low, his head slowly moving left to right and his movements economic, like he was expecting something to happen and was thoroughly prepared for it.

"I want it to be a surprise."

Her voice was flat and toneless, with less joy than a passed-out bar patron, but it was _something_ better than disconnection.

"Oh, so she _does_ speak?"

There was a sharp draw of breath as though its owner was piqued, before it was sent back out in a long sigh. "Sorry. I just… I know this is probably going to be the last time I'm here. I'm at peace with that, but at the same time… it's still home."

Hiccup shrugged lightly, and reached a hand out to scratch at Toothless' right shoulder just in front of the saddle strap. He didn't respond. "It's still a part of you - always will be."

Astrid snorted, and she turned her head away just as Hiccup glanced at her in response. "Thank you, Mr. Nomad." She held up a hand as though to stop words Hiccup wasn't going to speak in the first place. "Sorry - Mr. _Pegleg_ Nomad."

Hiccup let loose a breathy, wry burst of laughter, and scratched the left side of his head. "That's right. Don't forget that." He cast her a look, and her lips had curled the smallest inch. Progress.

"Speaking of legs - I told a white lie, before. My leg wasn't eaten by a Reaper."

"Oh, no," her voice came out in a deadpan flat drawl, "the truth finally comes out. My world is ending."

Hiccup's resultant smirk was full of impish mischief, and there was a small voice in the back of his mind that suggested _maybe_ he spent too much time around Jack and Anna. Saying nothing, he watched her face tighten out of the corner of his eye as the silence dragged on, until she finally snapped her head to face him.

"Okay, who was it th-"

Her eyes travelled down from his smirk, to the loose fist hovering over his chest, and then to the finger subtly poking toward the culprit. Hiccup was treated to the most spectacular expression of gaping shock he had ever seen.

" _Toothless_ ate your leg?!"

Her hissed exclamation of stunned disbelief was immediately met with an anguished, low groan from the stalking creature. Though he did not speak dragon, Hiccup knew it was the sound of, " _Again with the leg thing?"_

His eyebrows rose an inch as his smirk levelled into a smile, and he nodded with sincerity as he answered his assent.

"How?! Why… _what?!"_ To see Astrid in such a state sent a flutter of satisfaction through his chest. "You'd better carry on with that story, flyboy!"

Feeling the onset of a sweet numbness in his fingers - not a good sign if Astrid _was_ planning his demise - Hiccup pocketed his hands. "My family had this barn - real creaky thing - where we stored all the fruit and vegetables we grew for the nearby settlement. This one night, I heard someone open the barn doors, so I took my flashlight and went out to have a look."

A quick glance in Astrid's direction revealed exactly the expression he expected - an arched brow of _well, that was stupid._

The grass under his boots continued with its regular rhythm of soft crunching. "So I snuck in, waved my flashlight around. There was vegetables all over the place - real disaster scene - but I couldn't see the intruder anywhere. I saw these two green things right at the back, and at first I thought it's just some lettuce they didn't like… until I see the darkness behind them literally _move_. Then I realised… lettuce doesn't blink. It doesn't have slits for pupils… and doesn't _growl."_

Hiccup snuck a glance at Toothless, whose head had sunk lower and lower since Hiccup started speaking. He still looked every inch the alpha predator, but one that radiated embarrassment and shame.

"That's when I saw this faint blue glow light up along his body-" he traced a loosely open palm in an approximation of the length, like stroking air, "-and the rows of razor-sharp looking teeth. He advanced toward me, growling and snarling like I'm this huge threat, and I'm paralyzed. I thought to myself, _this is it, dear boy. You're going to die."_

Astrid stared at him, enraptured and expectant, like she was hanging on every word as though craving them. "What happened next?" she said, her voice breathy.

"I can't remember if it was my survival instincts or not, but I remember taking a step back just as I heard my Dad calling for me, and wouldn't you know it, I slipped on a freaking _carrot._ There was this almighty crack just before my ass hit the ground - and then nothing but this searing pain, this blinding agony in my leg. I was screaming, crying, Toothless was nowhere to be seen. It's a bit of a blur, but I remember my Dad telling me it was gonna be okay as he scooped me up. I remember opening my eyes, seeing all of the blood everywhere… and empty space where my leg should have been. In two seconds, Toothless had taken off my lower leg."

There was an anguished series of warbles and yowls from his buddy - even all those years on, Toothless still regretted the attack, no matter how often Hiccup told him it was okay. In Hiccup's book, the more you talked about something the easier it was to process. He reached down to scratch at Toothless' ear nubs, reminding him without words he still loved him to pieces.

"Fuck _me,"_ Astrid breathed in ill-hidden shock. Her eyes traced a slow line between Hiccup and Toothless, and waved a weak gesture from one to the other. "How did you get from that to… this?"

Hiccup pocketed his hand. That winter chill was being a real pain in the… fingers. He glanced down and watched as his left foot popped in and out of his vision. "Well, when you get a cybernetic limb, they tell you to use it as much as possible so the commands being sent from the chip in your brain adapt to your nervous system. So I'd take these walks around the house in the day - first week I kept stumbling, but after that I could go further. One day I went out to a nearby wood, carrying this stun pistol Dad made me have. I got, like, half a mile into the trees… and then I heard sticks cracking behind me. I turn, point my pistol… and it's Toothless."

"He came back?"

Hiccup did a small but quick nod, smiling at the memory. It always kept him optimistic in the darkest hours.

"Yeah. He was sat on the ground like a cat… but it was different. He looked… _sad._ I was there with a shaking gun in my hand, scared out of my mind, and he just sat there, looking up at me with those big doleful eyes. He started batting toward me something on the ground, so I looked… he'd actually brought back my leg. It was pretty rotten, and stank, but… but then I understood. He was _sorry,_ and he wanted to show me, to make things right. I looked at him… and I saw myself."

He turned and fixed Astrid with a long gaze, and to her credit, she did not falter even once. "He attacked me, because he was _scared._ He was scared of me for a reason. I was between him and the way out, so when I stepped on the carrot, his survival instincts kicked in. He had no other choice. I couldn't blame him for that - and when he brought back my leg, I knew right then I had nothing to fear from him. Because he was _sorry."_

A smile pulled at his lips, and eyes of sincerity bore down on her. "That's how I know you're all good people, Astrid, because your faces when you saw the graves were the same as Toothless' in the wood. You can't fake that kind of guilt."

Astrid snorted, and muttered something under her breath, the only word Hiccup caught being ' _figures…'._ She followed up with a question about how he and Toothless managed to end up with the Ghosts; Hiccup explained that not long after blooming - " _it felt like a bomb was going off over and over in my head," -_ the A.A.S. arrived to take him away. Stoick told him to run into the woods, but three officers caught up with and cornered him. Enter Toothless, swooping in like a black, feral guardian angel, whose roars and bellows sent the three officers running for their lives. Hiccup realised the creature had been keeping tabs on him since the apology, and all it took was for Toothless to jerk his head toward his back for Hiccup to get the message. They had been flying together ever since, and when one day they saw a young man with white hair, holding a staff and dressed in military gear, soaring completely unaided through the air? The rest was history.

"Hell of a story," Astrid remarked with impressed eyes, nodding with a protruding lower lip.

"Yep." Hiccup scratched at the back of his head as the edge of the forest drew to within ten yards from them, and tried not to think about the strange flutter in his stomach and precisely _why_ he was so anxious to hear her voice. "Crazy times."

"I gotta ask, though," she began, regarding him with a wry smirk that sang of knowing, and Hiccup prepared himself for the question everybody asked first - why it was he went alone into the barn, "Did you tell me all that so I'd be obliged to reveal my surprise?"

"No!" Hiccup stammered. The flush of heat that took pride of place in his cheeks _would_ have been handy to fight off the winter's bite had it not been so embarrassing. "No, no… well, maybe… did it work?"

Astrid threw her head back for a quick guffaw, leaving him curious as to why it sounded so sweet. Hell, it was better than the silence. "Swing and a miss there, flyboy-"

The nickname was growing on him faster than plants under Neve's care.

"-but it does earn you the privilege to ask _one_ personal question."

Eyebrows touching his hair, Hiccup felt his smile widen. "Just one?"

"Just one."

Hiccup studied her out of the corner of his eyes, his open-mouthed expression of _I-see-what-you-did-there_ failing miserably against her turned face. His mind automatically pulled out a series of questions from some kind of thought-box in his mind; queries ranging from the potential ammunition of how Jack was in bed, to why she became a Valkyrie in the first place, along with the question in Perdition that yet remained unanswered. In theory, he had the pick of the litter when it came to learning about Astrid Hofferson, ex-Valkyrie and renegade soldier.

He cast her a quick glance, hoping for inspiration. There was a woman with a sharp, dry sense of humour; competitive; stubborn and proud; protective of her friends and, judging by their sojourn across Unity territory, loyal to the core. Great qualities for a soldier, yet in his mind incongruent to the terrorising, unstoppable Valkyrie. The things they did… it seemed unlike her.

Kozmotis once called him naive; having disappeared to counter-flank a sneaky clone squad during a raid, his dark counterpart returned not long later, his entire body covered in sprays and splashes of the clones' blood and wearing one hell of a manic grin. Hiccup had then offhandedly made a sarcastic quip if he enjoyed himself, to which Kozmotis replied with startling contempt that he was naive not to understand why.

It had filled Hiccup's bones with such deep unsettlement - because he _didn't_ understand. He couldn't fathom why Kozmotis looked like he was having _fun._

Did Astrid have fun? How far into the shadowy persona of the Valkyrie did she resign herself? Was he walking with someone who revelled in violence as much as Kozmotis?

He didn't know how she became a Valkyrie, or why, that much he assumed would reveal itself in time. He wanted to know _who_ she was behind the mask.

And whether that person still existed.

"I do have one for you," he spoke, focused on the trees ahead, and his voice was edged with surprising hardness that Astrid threw him a wary glance in response.

"Okay," she responded as little more than a simple prompt.

Hiccup took a long breath in and out his nose; he knew he was about to open a door that _might_ lead to a beatdown, and permanently sour his budding friendship. Steeling himself for the potential explosion, he fixed her with a scanning gaze, and asked, "Did you enjoy them?"

Astrid's brows furrowed to a mild frown, and she looked at him like his question was a confusing waste of breath.

"Did I enjoy what?"

Hiccup swallowed and paused for a moment. "The things you did as a Valkyrie… did you enjoy them?"

There was a sharp intake of breath, and the way Astrid's face changed with such startling speed sent a dull, painful prang through his heart, setting off an uncomfortable twist of his gut. Her brow relaxed as her entire face fell, leaving an expression of muted anguish and eyes that glistened in the ethereal moonlight. She looked more like a stung child than a proud, capable woman, and he was struck with the self-reproachful realisation that words could harm her more than physical violence ever could.

Her eyebrows knitted together in a peak, and her voice was breathy and hurt. "How could you ask me that?"

"Because it's important to me."

Astrid's arms folded in on each other, but the way her lithe, toned body was mildly hunched in on itself screamed protection rather than defense. The breathy voice became a slow hiss, and her glimmering eyes radiated incomprehension and fear… and anguish. "Why?" she said, the words cracking a little. "Why is it so damn important to you?"

Hiccup let loose a small sigh from his nose, regretting the question, yet knowing that the door had been opened and he was already halfway through. He stepped forward, noticing in the corner of his eye Toothless plonking himself down on the grass, and held Astrid's taut upper arms with a feathered, tender touch. Astrid immediately flinched and snapped her eyes away, her brow dipping whilst her lower lip hid between her teeth.

"Because I wanna remember what you say, right now."

Her eyes met his, and her lips parted with an almost imperceptible breath. In the pale moonlight she looked so vulnerable, that the urge to hold the unholdable and sooth the furious blossomed within him. She ducked her eyes to his shoulders, and after a moment's hesitation his fingers knew the absence of her arms. She walked past him, and he turned with her, watching the back of her her head as she faced the distant amber lights of her family home.

"I'm angry, Hiccup."

Her voice was quiet, so much so that Hiccup almost missed it and likely would have done had it not been for the pin-drop silence around them. A sigh escaped his throat, one of self-reproach for seemingly putting her in a worse mood than to begin with.

"Look, sorry I-"

"Not what I meant," she said, slicing his sentence in two like a swing of her axe, the abrupt tone of her voice a warning to shut the fuck up. Hiccup wisely acquiesced, and pocketed his hands.

She took a moment, and when the night was once more graced with her voice, composure and drive accompanied it. "I am angry person. I've always been like it, ever since I was little. I figured if I was angry all the time, then _someone_ out there cared enough to feel something about me… even if it was just me." Her head lowered a little, and Hiccup fought the urge to rest his hand on her shoulder. "Sure, my maid Helga cared… but she wasn't enough."

The words, "Your parents," escaped his lips before he could stop them. His left eye wrinkled in a cringe, and braced himself.

No fury was sent his way, but a snort more bitter than the winter air and a reply with sarcasm potent enough to melt unidium. "Shyeah - if you can call them that. They didn't even bat an eye when Larsen's goons came for me. They just signed the conscription papers and sent me away."

Hiccup frowned with a mild gape of surprise. "You were conscripted?"

Astrid turned halfway, just enough for him to see her face, but also to avoid looking at him. Her sky blue eyes, veiled by the night and her own emotion, fixed themselves on the ground.

"We all were. Elsa was the only one who _wanted_ to become a Valkyrie."

Hiccup opened his mouth to enquire further into that, but a strange tightness in his chest reminded him he only had one question, one she hadn't answered yet. The story of why Astrid was conscripted, he decided, would have to wait.

"So how does that relate to what I asked?"

That time she _did_ turn her face to him, and under the glow of the moon, her face told a tale shared between desperation, worry, and indignant irritation.

"It relates, because I never asked to be what I am," she snapped. Her gaze eroded Hiccup's will to stand back and wait, but he knew enough that it would likely cause more problems than solve them. She stared at him for a few more seconds, before her face relaxed into a forlorn demeanour, eyes glazing over as her voice softened, and became toneless. "I had to act the part of the Valkyrie, so that meant I had to do what I did, and convince everyone around me that I was in it one hundred percent. I had to be _flawless._ I had to make both the people fighting beside me and the people fighting against me believe I was some terrifying warrior, committed to the mission to take you and the Ghosts down."

Her eyelids drew over, and her head moved away from him. Hiccup heard a long, sorrowful breath, and saw a hand grasp at her upper right arm that hung loosely at her side. "But to do that, to convince everyone, I had to tap into that anger. Every time I stepped onto the battlefield, I was the teenager so angry at the world that she wanted to make it hurt as much as she did. After a while it got easier… so… yeah. I did enjoy it."

She looked over at him, and Hiccup was struck with the sheer absence of her bravado, her front, her bulletproof armor. There, in the field between the sinister-looking forest and her family home, Astrid was vulnerable.

Her voice when she next spoke, was breathy and faraway. "And I _hate_ myself for it."

Neither of them spoke any words for several moments, for Hiccup was bereft of the cognitive ability to form basic sentences, and in amongst the feeling of his chest squeezed by a vice and the ache of his heart, he suspected Astrid had no more to say. Under the pale moonlight, she looked _tired._

"I need to go." She turned away, her blonde hair shimmering with the movement, and her gaze rested upon the family home. Her arms fell to her sides, and she took a step. "There's something I left behind."

"Astrid-"

She held a hand behind her to stop him. "Just stay right there until I come back."

"Astrid…"

"I won't be long." She started off in a brisk jog in the direction of the house.

"Astrid!"

She skidded to a stop and rounded in him, wide-eyed and teeth-gritting frustration written on her face, her arms wide as if to say ' _the fuck is your malfunction?'_

"What?!"

Hiccup didn't flinch, nor did he hesitate. Certain he had her gaze and her attention, he said loud enough for her to hear, but soft enough for sincerity...

"I care."

Moments passed while her sky blue eyes regarded him with a blank look, like she didn't know what to make of what he had said, or of him himself. He wondered if he should follow it up, but something seemed to reboot behind those eyes, and with a couple of glances back at him she turned away and continued toward the house. Gently lowering the duffel bag, Hiccup watched her figure melt into the darkness, before turning to his buddy.

"I think that went well." He gestured toward Toothless, who was still sat on his hind legs, his tail curled around him and his wings idling either side. "What do you think?"

Toothless gave him a look that screamed so much of ' _unimpressed',_ it could only have been perfected by an arched brow.

"What? I think we made real progress-"

That time, his words were cut short when he noticed the subtle change in Toothless' left eye, from his usual pseudo-oval to a more rounded green orb. Definitely an arched brow.

Hiccup's nostrils flared as he let loose a long sigh, and he wore a cringe as he scratched the back of his head. "Yeah… I messed up, didn't I?"

Toothless didn't even need to nod or make a sound for Hiccup to sense his agreement. It used to take him off guard how the winged creature was often displaying qualities more human than animal. At least, until the bunker in Greenland… where he found the truth.

Toothless decided he was going to flop down on the grass while he waited, but just as he crossed his forepaws and lowered his body, he tensed as something in the air caught his attention. Curious, Hiccup watched as his buddy's nose rose to the sky, taking quick but deep sniffs of the cold winter air, head moving to and fro in search of the scent's direction.

"You got something?"

Toothless gave no indication of an answer, other than rise to his paws and stalk away from him toward the forest, staccato sniffs and snorts leading him on.

Perturbed, Hiccup called to him, "Hey, we're supposed to wai-"

His words died in his throat the instant Toothless let out a long, low, menacing growl. Many years had tuned Hiccup well into the various sounds, gestures and expressions Toothless made, and that one meant only one thing: there was a threat hidden those trees, moving in the dark. Hiccup felt a prickle of anxiety in his spine that went nicely with the newly formed knot in his stomach.

If it couldn't get worse, it did; Toothless bounded straight into the wood.

"Hey, wait!" Hiccup shot after him, no longer concerned with staying put. "Toothless!"

His footfalls carried him past the treeline and into the darkened forest, shadows growing and morphing around him where the moonlight feared to tread. He called out again as he ran, the crack of wet sticks underfoot providing a rhythm of tension he did not need, starkly aware of the futility of chasing after a black-scaled dragon in a pitch black forest, the dragon likely in stalking mode and therefore silent as the grave.

Nevertheless, he ran on, hoping for a stroke of luck, a small crunch, a shadowy movement, _anything_ that would lead him on. Heart thundering in his ears, his feet pounded the forest floor in a blind direction… until the futility grew too much for his hope to hold back.

Panting, though less of exertion and more of tense anxiety, Hiccup slowed to a halt and held his hips with his hands, shaking his head in exasperation as his eyes struggled to dismantle the blanket of night around him. He threw his hands into the air, trying to ignore the realisation tightening his chest that he was lost in the woods of _Itchy Armpit_ for all he knew it was called, alone and vulnerable.

Jack's warning before they left rang out in his mind.

It was at that moment his mind automatically established an environmental baseline - rather, everything that didn't fit into it - whilst his eyes adjusted to accommodate the pitiful beams of moonlight filtering through the dead branches. Even at night, a forest like _Itchy Armpit_ would have some form of life. Nocturnal creatures shuffling over the forest floor in search of food. The cries of foxes in search of their mates. The hoots of owls as they stood vigilant for prey.

Silence greeted him like an oppressive veil of danger…

...punctuated by naught by the heavy, regular snaps of twigs behind him.

Hiccup's breath caught in his throat. At first he entertained the hope that Astrid had returned, or Toothless had come back for a thorough reprimanding, toting some sort of animal in his jaws. Both would have been vastly more preferable to the pervasive realisation the steps were too heavy for a human, and weren't coming in beats of four.

Not to mention the sensation of hot breath against the back of his neck, sending the hairs to attention with a paradoxical chill. Blood running cold, his heart joined his stomach on the floor - and flashes of the _last_ time it happened crossed his mind. Led by his head, he turned to face his hunter.

Its features were too veiled by the dark for any discernible detail, but what he could pick out, chilled him to the bone. A tiara of monstrous spikes sat upon a round head, which sported wide jaws with rows of vicious-looking teeth. It looked at him from the side like a horse, and atop its nine foot _at least_ frame were two bat-like wings, leading to a tail that languidly swished back and forth like a stalking cat.

Whatever it was, Hiccup could safely slap the title of _Predator_ upon it.

"Hey there," he managed a croak.

It startled the creature into action. Snarling, it swung its head at him with jaws wide open, intending to take his head off. A yelp of shock tore from his throat, and Hiccup threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the snap of its teeth. Scrambling to his feet and sputtering the dirt from his mouth, he ignored the winded sensation in his chest as he propelled himself in _hopefully_ the direction he came.

His right hand went down to tap at his thigh, and the chill in his spine renewed - no sidearm. He thought he didn't need it. He had Toothless, and Astrid said she had his back. Now, he had neither, and was being chased by something that could bite him in half if it wanted to.

There was a faint hiss, and his right eye twitched in reflexive response to something whizzing past his face - he was lucky Jack didn't witness the subsequent recoil and high-pitched yelp as he skidded to a halt - followed by three dull thuds against the tree ahead he _was_ going to hide behind. Attracted by the sound, his panicked gaze flicked to its origin.

Three spikes were protruding from the tree trunk, illuminated by a provident beam of moonlight. They weren't there before.

That beast could fling spikes.

Something about that tickled at his memory. He frowned; why did that arouse a faint familiarity?

The menacing sound chitter and rawk from behind him put that question to bed. He glanced around the forest floor for something, _anything_ , to use as a weapon. Finally settling upon a long, thick, wet branch resembling a scythe, he whirled around and drew it over his shoulder like a bat...

...just in time to see the creature, in the midst of charging toward him with its jaws open and head held horizontally, be tackled from its right side by a pleasantly glowing, shrieking blue blur.

"Toothless!" Hiccup cried out in relief and a half an octave higher voice.

His companion of perfect timing could not answer him. Recovering quicker than either of them anticipated, it scrambled to its feet and immediately began snapping for Toothless' neck, feet, wings, anything it could reach while Toothless did his best to dodge the attacks and counter with his own. It swung its comparatively larger head into Toothless' side, taking advantage of the latter's attempt to avoid a bite mark in his wing, and as he was knocked on his side it tried to take a chunk out of his exposed neck.

Toothless remedied the affront by holding the assailant's jaws with his forepaws, and thrusting his entire lower half up to apply an almighty kick to the creature's side.

Hiccup was rooted to the spot, like invisible ropes had tied him to the ground. He could only watch as Toothless and the creature locked themselves in a frenetic battle for dominance, with the creature attempting to get past him to Hiccup on several occasions, only to be stopped either by a tackle to the side, or by Toothless blocking his path.

Deciding enough was enough, Toothless leaped into the air and propelled himself toward the creature, slamming into its side with a right shoulder check. Sent flying a few feet, it darted its feet just as Toothless bounded toward Hiccup and put himself between them. He spread his wings wide, his blue glow faintly reflected off the frosty trees around them, and the night sky was torn asunder by one of the loudest, longest roars Hiccup had ever heard his buddy give. Ducking down, Hiccup peered under Toothless' left wing to see the creature unfurl its own wings, reply with a deafening howl, before its open mouth began to glow.

Just like Toothless.

He could hear Toothless suck in a breath.

"STOP!"

A pair of legs dashed through Hiccup's vision just as both combatants were about to let fly - Toothless turned just in time, enabling the purple blast to disintegrate the trunk of a wide tree ten feet at the creature's right, whilst hot lava-like sprays went harmlessly wide, cascading to the left and clear of any targets. Toothless folded in his wings, allowing Hiccup a perfect view of the new arrival, illuminated by the amber glow of the patch of burning flame.

Astrid, her face clearly pale even in the faint golden hue, stood between the two animals, her hands held either side of her like some freaked-out peacemaker. Her head whipped to and fro, hands thrusting outwards every two seconds.

"Friends!" she yelled. "We're all friends here, right?! So let's just..." she hesitated for a few seconds, whether out of the violin string-taut tension or inability to articulate anything further than, "...be friendly!"

Frowning in bemusement, Hiccup stood up and gave two soft taps to Toothless' left hind leg, a wordless command to stand down. Circling the wings - Toothless had evidently decided to remain on yellow alert - he stood close to his buddy's head and regarded Astrid with a wary gaze.

"Astrid? What's going on?"

He caught the deep rise and fall of her chest, and her hands began to lower. "This… this isn't how I wanted it to go."

Hiccup glanced between her and the two creatures, both of which watched each other like hawks, neither prepared to yield. "Wanted what to go? Astrid, what are you-"

It clicked, less of a penny drop and more of a gigaton bomb, when Astrid quickly jogged over to the mysterious animal and began to mutter to it in a soothing voice, her eyes checking every visible inch of it.

"This is your friend…"

Astrid threw him a hearty glare, and moved to stand in front and to the side of it. " _This_ is a _she,_ Hiccup," she snapped, "and her name is Stormfly. You could have hurt her."

Hiccup gaped - the fuck? He was nearly killed by this Stormfly, and she had the temerity to chew _him_ out?

" _She_ nearly ate me!" he yelled, "If it wasn't for Toothless, you'd be explaining to Frost why his X.O. was coming back in a dozen pieces!" He turned to the saviour in question. "I'm still pissed at you for running off like that."

Astrid issued an offended gape, and canted her hips as she threw him an angry gesture. "Yeah? Well, if _you_ had stayed put like I asked, none of this would have happened!"

It wasn't often Hiccup lost his temper - if at all - but there were certain situations that got on his nerves. Jack's excessive pranking was one. Nearly being eaten by a strange predator, and then being _blamed_ for it?

That was new.

"Excuse me?!" He took two steps forward, arms wide. " _I_ was chasing Toothless, who ran into this forest 'cause he smelled a threat _._ A _threat,_ Astrid."

"Stormfly is not a threat, Hiccup!"

"To you, maybe! She could have killed me... this, right here, is why I asked about her! All of this could have been avoided if I'd had just a _little_ heads up!"

"Don't put this on me-"

The argument was brutally cut short with a plasma blast from Toothless directly and perfectly between them. Hiccup whirled around, startled by the bright, loud blast, and found his buddy alternating his irritated gaze between them, scaly face a neon sign saying, " _you done?"_

Hiccup let out his anger and frustration in a long sigh. Maybe he was right, and for _Toothless_ of all to desire an end to the bickering…

He turned to Astrid, who oddly mirrored his expression of awkward apology. "Sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have gone off on you like that."

Astrid waved it off. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry too." Her right hand went to her hip whilst her left rubbed a rough patch on her forehead. "You're right, I should have told you - I was just so wrapped up in wanting to see your face when you saw her… I forgot she doesn't like people. I figured she'd had some bad experiences with Unity, or something."

The faint familiarity tickled at his mind once again - he put it down to the similarities between her and his initial experiences with Toothless and nearby people.

"Okay, well," he said, clapping his hands together, "let's do this right. Hi, Stormfly," he gave her a little wave, "I'm Hiccup, and this is Toothless."

Stormfly's head moved between him and Astrid, possibly looking to her for reassurance. A suspicion confirmed when the blonde spoke to her in a soothing, encouraging voice. "It's okay. He's a friend. They both are."

Stormfly's slight backing away, and the low groan she emitted seemed to indicate she was unconvinced. Astrid took a step toward her whilst gently gesturing back to Hiccup. "Don't worry, girl. You can trust them. I do. Come on... let them see how beautiful you are."

Something Astrid said seemed to have the right effect, whether it was the soothing encouragement with which she spoke, or the appeal to some sort of vanity in Stormfly, but she nevertheless took three wary steps forward into the dying light emitted by her fire blast.

It was as he laid eyes on the majestic Stormfly, without the threat of consumption, that the tickle of familiarity morphed into a full-blown itch. She walked on two thick legs not unlike a bird, but her lizard-like frame gave of more of a dinosaur-like vibe than anything avian. Her tail, swishing left and right, sported dozens of vicious-looking barbs - Astrid, noticing that, scurried over and began smoothing them down with loving strokes toward the tip of her tail. He glanced over at the patch where her liquid flame had once happily burned, now a black, charred shape in the forest floor.

It clicked.

"Subject Beta," he breathed.

Stormfly heard him - and was _not_ impressed. She ducked her head low with a protracted growl, and a yelping Astrid barely pulled her hands away before the barbs shot up again. Toothless let out a defensive snarl in response, and stalked closer to Hiccup.

"The hell did you just say to her?!" Astrid barked, glaring fiercely in his direction.

Unable to take his eyes off Stormfly, Hiccup said, "Astrid… where did you first find her?"

Astrid shrugged, her hands flying into the air as though he had just asked the stupidest question, given the circumstances. "Here, in this forest! I was camping out 'cause my parents were arguing again, and when I came back from a toilet break she was eating my food!" Her left hand waved between them. "And she reacted just like this-Hiccup, _what_ did you say to her?"

He ignored her - it couldn't be true. What were the odds of Subject Beta surviving the C-112 facility disaster, to then be the best friend of Astrid - the ex-Valkyrie in his company? He didn't bother calculating them; the word _astronomical_ seemed to suffice.

Turning to Toothless, who was looking at him as though witnessing a descent into insanity, he said, "Bud, think back to when you were at the facility."

Toothless scowled, and snorted as he jerked his head away.

"Do you remember if you had a friend there? Another experiment, just like you?"

"Experiment?!" Astrid sputtered. Hiccup paid her no heed, focusing on Toothless - who looked back at him through the corners of his eyes, frowning.

"They escaped a few times - breathed fire that looked like spitting lava. Spikes in their tail."

Toothless looked away, and it didn't take years of experience with him to notice the cogs turning behind his eyes.

"They escaped so often, they… they had to wear a muzzle. Do you remember?"

Hiccup watched Toothless' eyes move left and right as he visibly searched his memories, and then witnessed possibly a change into the most glorious expression he had ever seen his best friend wear - the dawn of recognition. Toothless' wings fell to the ground, and his eyes went wide as his mouth dropped open.

"Hiccup, I swear to-"

If the hand he held up to cut her off had caused a serious glare to be cast, he didn't notice nor care, so focused was he on his friend. Toothless' gape morphed into a goofy, _toothless_ grin as he recognised Subject Beta before him, and immediately he began bouncing on his paws like an excited dog, issuing a guttural noise that sounded suspiciously like _hur-hur-hur._

Stormfly looked at him like he had gone crazy. As did Astrid.

Hiccup, too.

Undeterred, Toothless dropped low to the ground and curled his wings over his eyes, and occasionally drew them back for a weird game of _peek-a-boo_ over and over again.

Still, Stormfly regarded him with a wary eye, as though his antics were a threat to her personal safety. Hiccup considered backing away; the fearsome dragon, bane of _Einherjars_ and _Helas_ alike, was playing _peek-a-boo_ with his rapidly disappearing dignity.

So, Toothless brought out the big guns. Curling his wings around him, he rolled onto his back and grasped his tail, bringing it to his mouth where it was kneaded and ' _bitten'_ by his gums.

That did it. Stormfly's mouth went wide, and she began issuing a series of excited chirrups and rawks while her head bobbed up and down, before scampering over to the now-righted Toothless. Hiccup watched with a growing grin as the two creatures engaged in some sort of goofy ' _dance'_ around each other, feeling his heart blossom with warmth at the sight of a reunion between two old friends.

Astrid appeared beside him, regarding the adorable scene with a bewildered eye. "Okay… _what?"_

Hiccup could only offer a shrug. "I guess when they were kept in the facility, Toothless kept Stormfly entertained by doing stuff like that."

He felt a hand enclose around his left upper arm, and steer him to face its owner. Astrid looked at him with a serious, no-mess face, keeping their eyes locked.

For some reason, Hiccup felt his stomach leap.

"You have some explaining to do."

* * *

"She was an experiment?"

Hiccup had gotten so used to the strong, confident, robust quality of Astrid's voice, that the faraway tone of disbelief and shock had pulled at his heartstrings like a plucking hard-light violinist.

Anxious to vacate _Itchy Armpit_ as the scuffle between two dragons was bound to have drawn attention, Hiccup had promised to tell Astrid what he knew as soon as they found a place to stay for the daylight hours. Having zeroed in on suitable shelter halfway between Astrid's home and the small warehouse near the southeastern coast where the _Fairy_ lay hidden under camouflage - an abandoned hospital, which was not eerie _at all_ \- Hiccup then made good on his promise over a small campfire and survival rations in the waiting room.

Astrid, for her part, was the perfect audience. She had listened patiently and attentively to every word out of Hiccup's mouth, her eyes leaving his only to glance upon Stormfly, and then return. He explained that, like Toothless, Stormfly was the product of genetic engineering, the splicing of DNA to form new life. She was the result of science without ethics, morals or boundaries. He explained the treatment the two dragons went through, and there was a moment where, as her face was wracked with ill-concealed fury, he thought the floor vibrated under him.

He then finished off by explaining that the same serum the scientists used to create the two dragons was the same used on humans, and that not only were Stormfly and Toothless ' _born'_ in that facility, but the first abnormals, too.

_Everything_ could be traced back to the illegal facility, destroyed by a Russian missile.

Then came the inevitable questions.

How did he know?

His immediate reply was the factual truth; he'd found observation reports, assessments, photographs, everything detailing the experiments on the two dragons - Pitch had even found records of the early experiments into the first abnormal. As expected, Astrid asked if she could see the documents for herself at the earliest opportunity. He couldn't fault her for it - she thought she knew all there was to Stormfly, and there he was, turning her world upside down.

Therein lay the rub - the documents were still at _Sanctuary._

"I… can't, right now."

Astrid had looked less than impressed and more than skeptical, tilting her head and throwing him a wholly unnecessary glare.

"That's not good enough, Hiccup. You just told me my best friend was born because some asshole scientists thought they were above right and wrong, but you haven't got the proof to back it up."

Nor could he have blamed her lack of belief. The whole thing sounded like fantasy, even in the age of holo-imaging, endless power generators and people who could manipulate the elements on a whim.

"I know," he had said, cross legged on the dusty floor between two faded red plastic benches, trying to avoid. "I know it's a lot to take in-"

"No fucking shit, flyboy!" Astrid had went from serious and stern to full-on furious in the space of a sentence, her abrupt loudness causing both Toothless and Stormfly to cast wary glances from their curled up positions near the door. "I'm not taking this at face value - you tell me, right now, how you know-"

"I can't!"

His outburst had caused a trifecta of two dragon-glances at him, plus one hell of a startled recoil from Astrid, lips clamped shut and eyes wide. Chalk _that_ up to the list.

It was then Hiccup had realised just how tired he was, and how much nearly twelve hours of solid flight, meeting and nearly being _eaten_ by Stormfly had taken out of him. His limbs felt like lead with fatigue gnawing at his bones, and his normally vast patience was wearing thin.

He rubbed hard at his face, and tried to interest himself in the dirty, debris-strewn hospital waiting room while he calmed himself down. Once upon a time, it would have supported dozens of souls in need of healing; now, it was just another room that had succumbed to the ravages of time and war, with ripped-out benches and abandoned personal belongings the only signs life once existed. Lifelessness always clawed at his soul.

"Why not?" she had then asked, her voice measurably quieter.

He'd sighed, bowing his head and closing his eyes. She didn't deserve his outburst and he knew it - he was just in an awful position.

He could answer with a spectacular and nifty evasion of the truth, perhaps a subject change… or he could give her the truth.

The truth being he _couldn't_ tell her.

"The reason I can't tell you," he said, his voice strained and quiet, "is because our leader Neve and three hundred brave people sacrificed their lives for something. Something bigger than you, me, those two goofballs over there," he gestured to the two animals, who sat in front of each other and batted at a spindly ball of tumbleweed, "bigger than the Ghosts or the Valkyries."

He forced himself to look at her; still she regarded him with eyes of uncertainty. Her braid, thicker and more practical than Snow Queen's, sat on her right shoulder, and her bangs tickled at her eyebrows.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you. It's that I can't without betraying everything they died for. I'm so sorry, Astrid… but…"

"You don't trust me enough."

Her words, elegant in their simplicity and brutal in their honesty, brought back a healthy dose of reality into the situation he was in. Maybe he _was_ too naive. He'd come close to telling someone, a total stranger in the grand scheme of things, the greatest secret of his kind. Jack would have had his head. Kozmotis would have sliced and diced the rest. Anna would probably have burned it all.

Maybe one day the Ghosts would trust their new companions with the knowledge of _Sanctuary,_ their greatest secret and their last, best hope for survival - because if there was even a _one percent_ chance they were not on the level, _Sanctuary's_ secrecy demanded he take it as an absolute certainty.

He had to face it - after less than a fortnight, the Ghosts just didn't know the ex-Valkyries that well.

He inhaled a deep breath, letting it flow out in a long, resigned sigh. "I'm sorry, Astrid. Please don't take it personally. I like you, I consider myself a bit of a rule bender… but even I won't break this one."

She emitted a small sniff, and offered him a smile that _would_ have come across as sympathetic had disappointed hurt not laid behind her eyes. "I'm trying not to… but I get it. I know what it's like."

Her eyes found the flickering gold of the campfire, and the heavy frown that took pride of place on her features coupled with the way her body closed in on itself was a screaming clue the topic was over.

The problem was, and it was one he well knew he had, was that he was often blinkered.

"I need to ask you something."

Astrid snorted, and even though he could only see one eye, he _knew_ they were rolling. "I bet you do," she said in a low, brusque tone, glaring at the flames. Maybe she was keeping them going.

"I know you don't have to-"

"Spit it out, Hiccup," she said in a half-sigh.

"What did you go back to the house for?"

There was an audible catch of breath. Hiccup didn't miss how her entire body stiffened as though receiving a mild electric shock, and her widened eyes instantly went to a place far further than the cracked, heavily faded blue painted wall at the other end of the room. Nor did he miss the way her left hand suddenly dove into the pocket of her hooded sweater.

Bringing his voice down to soft, "Astrid?"

Her eyes slowly fell like a descending feather, and her hand once hidden in the safety of her hoodie carefully withdrew, clutching something in her fingers.

A doll.

It had two black buttons for eyes, brown wool for hair, and a triangle of faded red material for a dress.

Hiccup recognised it instantly.

"That's Sophie's doll," he murmured, unable to take his eyes off it. "She's one of Jack's kindergarten kids. How… how did you get it?"

Astrid too gazed at it like it like it intimidated yet enraptured her. "During the Purge. I was… I saw it… I couldn't help myself..."

She trailed off, unsaid words hanging in the air like invisible omens. Her voice was shaky enough to put Hiccup on edge, and he glanced between her and the doll, wondering why such a haunted look sat upon her normally proud, strong featured. It reminded him of battle-shock - why Astrid was exhibiting signs, he did not know.

Until she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, but with a resolute strength in her tone. Her eyes remained yet on the flames, like they were telling her life's story.

"I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to promise me you'll tell me the truth. No matter what."

Hiccup slowly nodded. "I promise."

"When we destroyed the _Guardian Star,"_ she hesitated, as though preparing herself for an answer she did not want to ask, "were there… were there any children aboard?"

It was a question easy to answer, and didn't require any of the truth-dodging he expected he would have had to do. No, it was a simple plea for reassurance, from someone likely unaccustomed to pleading or needing reassurance. A faint smile tugging at his lips, though she did not see it, he answered.

"No."

Astrid gave a sharp, shuddering intake of breath, and under Hiccup's watchful gaze she closed her eyes, and covered her mouth with a loose, trembling fist.

"You're sure?" she whispered.

"As sure as Stormfly is sitting over there."

He then heard Astrid emit a sound he never thought he'd hear; a faint, breathless whimper, and a sight that pulled at his heartstrings - a lone, thin, solitary bead of liquid descending from her left eye.

She murmured something under her breath, words Hiccup barely would have caught had he not been listening so intently.

"Maybe I can find redemption…"

"Astrid?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes snapped open, and within a second she was rising to her feet and striding away like hell itself was behind her, loudly and brusquely informing him she needed to be alone for a while. There were moments Hiccup swore he heard sounds of sniffs and sobs, but the hospital was _that_ old and damaged, it could have been the wind for all he knew.

When she returned half an hour later, just as dawn was breaking through the shattered, window-less revolving doors, she set about making space near the fire to sleep whilst explaining the doll; she took it not only to remind her of just where her path of anger had led, but also in the hope that, one day, she would be able to return the doll to her owner.

"To say sorry for taking her home away from her."

It was on the tip of Hiccup's tongue to build on that hope by saying the day may yet come - but he was bound to silence.

Astrid's tone had left no room for further conversation, so as she wordlessly laid down with her back to him, he fired off a quick check-in over the earpiece and settled down on the hard ground to get some shut-eye of his own.

As the first golden rays of morning sunlight beamed through the broken windows, turning the particles of dust in the air into tiny glittering stars, he glanced up at Astrid and began to wonder what it was like to have never been loved.

It was as his eyes fluttered closed, the flight fatigue and the night's excitement catching up with him, that a pleasant thought crossed his mind and filled his heart with promise.

If she were to become part of the ragtag bunch of misbehaving miscreants called the Ghosts… then she would know the love of a family.


	48. A Beautiful Lie

" **A Beautiful Lie"**

"Jack."

Having followed Anna down into the safe house's basement for a quick inventory of the supplies left there, Jack spent an hour enduring what was possibly the worst part of being in command.

"Jack."

The boring, dragging, mind-numbing administration duties. Number of firearms; whether they were in decent condition or not; number of bullets. Everything Jack would love to push onto Hiccup so as to not fall asleep on his feet from the sheer tedium.

" _Jack!"_

Evidently it was too late. Snapped out of his peaceful dozing, Jack pushed away from the wall with a start and hurriedly unfolded his hands. He blinked at Anna, who stood on the other side of a small square wooden collapsible table, her arms crossed whilst giving him an unimpressed look.

"What?" he said, blankly.

Anna rolled her eyes with a dramatic huff, and rested her hands on canted hips. "Pay attention, Double-Oh-Snoozy."

"I am, I am—I was just checking my eyelids for holes," said Jack, blinking far too often whilst stifling a yawn.

"Uh-huh," Anna drawled, and then began gesturing to each dark green, steel framed crate. "Like I was saying: we've got fifteen assault rifles, sixteen pistols, a sniper rifle and two shotguns - problem is, only half of the rifles and pistols look like they'll work. Two full clips for each weapon, plus a few combat knives. We're looking pretty good on the gratuitous violence front."

"Okay, so we're not short on that. Cool." Jack gestured to the small black wooden box sat proudly on the table in front of Anna. "At the risk of quoting that movie we found in Zone Thirty-Two… what's in the box?"

Jack wasn't sure he liked the wry curl of the left side of Anna's lips that went with the resultant expression of coy innocence like synthesised peanut butter and jelly, nor the way her eyes slowly went down to the box as she lifted off the lid.

"Well, I found some interesting things in this here box."

Her hands dove inside the box and proceeded to pull out some items that instantly woke Jack the heck up - four pairs of goggles, and four Ghost masks. They were spares, as could be discerned from the lack of personal insignias like a fireball or damaged snowflake, but each set looked in fairly impeccable condition. She laid them in a row in front of the box.

Jack looked up at Anna with narrowed eyes just as she held her hands behind her back, returning his suspicious gaze with a blank look.

"Anna, what are you implying?"

She blinked, giving him textbook innocence. "What are you inferring?"

"I'm inferring you're implying something."

"You're inferring I'm implying something, but you haven't said what you're inferring I'm implying."

Jack folded his arms, staring at her. "I'm inferring exactly what you're implying."

Anna shrugged lightly, though Jack could detect the traces of a smirk on her lips.

"You're still inferring I'm implying something, but I still don't know what it is I'm implying, other than that you're inferring I'm implying something."

Jack's brain stalled to a halt, gears grinding and sparks flying, reaching a complete shutdown. If it had a white flag, it would have been flown high. His blank mind must have registered loud and clear, as Anna's half-smirk turned into one as mischievous as any he'd given in his life.

"I hate everything about that sentence," he said amid a light groan as his exasperation was massaged away by the application of his left forefinger and thumb to both temples.

Anna snorted, and began piling the goggles and masks back into the box. "You're telling me. I haven't had to use my tongue so much since—"

" _Okaythankyoumovingswiftlyon!"_

Jack's loud blurt in the desperate hope to avoid the obvious ensuing mental image caused nothing but a low set of the dirtiest chuckles Anna had ever given - especially as his hands had shot up in surrender.

"What?" She forced out amid her mirth, "I was just gonna say—"

"Ah!"

"—that Kristoff and I—"

"Ah-ah!" Jack said, holding up a finger.

"If you two are finished—"

In the pursuit of staving off the mental image of his best friend and former C.O. getting it on, Jack whirled around and barked another " _Ah!"_ at the owner of the voice before he could stop himself. Kozmotis regarded him with an arched brow, halfway down the old wooden steps into the basement, his hand resting on the worn banister.

Jack's cheeks turned a mild pink in embarrassment, and suppressed the urge to snowball the snickering Anna in the face. "Sorry. We were just..." He waved it off. "What's up?"

Kozmotis responded in his usual eloquent smoothness, though looked annoyed at Jack's less than polite greeting. "I was going to say that Hiccup and Viking have returned, and apparently, they brought something we need to witness."

"Alright, we'll be there in a second," Jack said, and Kozmotis promptly turned back up the steps - with so much creaking, Jack could easily see the planks snapping in the future - and left the basement. He turned to look at Anna, who stood with her back to him on her tippy-toes to put the box on the highest shelf, her strawberry braid-tails happily sat on her black T-shirt covered shoulder blades.

She'd been distracted since they arrived, ever since Snow Queen appropriated one of the further rooms in the suburban house and, to his knowledge, remained there ever since. When Jack had suggested Anna do the inventory, she'd jumped at the chance - though she was baffled as to why Jack didn't know what supplies were stashed away in the basement, until he explained that a Reaper swarm on its merry way to Perdition had prevented him and Eugene from taking a look.

"How's your sister?"

The box slipped from Anna's right hand, though her reflexes were sharp enough to prevent its tumble to the floor. "She's okay, I think. Not sure, though."

Jack moved to half-sit on the table with his arms crossed, but the pained creak under his weight caused him to dart up almost instantly. "Not sure?"

Anna turned and pocketed her hands, her shoulders forward and drooping. Her face wore a story of concern and disquiet. "I knocked on her door earlier, and she _actually_ opened it - but she looked as pale as you. Tired, too. I think she caught something."

"Did you check her out?"

Anna shook her head. "I offered, but she asked for Rapunzel." She sniffed, and shrugged. "I don't know… I guess…"

"You wanted to help, but you're a little hurt she wanted Blondie instead?"

There was a tiny nod.

Jack smiled, and circled the table. Anna rested her head on his chest as he hugged her, rubbing her back in support. Strange, their friendship; fire and ice, rebirth and immortality. "Maybe she's doing what you asked her to do - she's giving you space," he murmured.

Two dainty, yet impeccably toned arms squeezed his midsection. She was adorably short - but the smaller ones were always the most dangerous. "Yeah… you're probably right."

Remaining like that for a few more moments, Jack then felt two short taps on his back. "Come on," Anna said, pulling away, "we should go see what the fuss is about."

Jack followed her up the stairs, taking care to avoid putting his feet in the middle of each wooden step, and closed the basement door behind him before passing through the empty, disreputable living room and out of the front door via the hallway, where Kozmotis, Merida and Rapunzel waited in the front yard.

The street looked like any other suburban street, at least, from what Jack could compare to the dirty, barely intact paper leaflets he came across on his travels. There were stark differences, of course; lawns once well-tended grew out of control, with grass tips as high as the knee. Debris and trash littered the street between forgotten cars, some of which were little more than burnt-out husks of their former glory. Streetlights undoubtedly once bright and active decades ago remained dark and inert, with the moon's breath the only source of illumination. The air smelt clean, but a thin hint of damp and mildew rode every breeze through the empty street - and, like Des Moines, it was the lifelessness that clawed at Jack's soul. Children's bicycles, utilising the old bipedal propulsion, lay forsaken here and there, and various balls poked out from the wild grass. Life existed in the street once upon a time, and now the only living things were a bunch of fugitives and four abnormals.

As he stepped down the small veranda onto the cracked paving and was greeted with the sight of Toothless enjoying a good scratch behind his left ear nub, he checked himself. Four fugitives, four abnormals, and a dragon. Can't forget the dragon.

"Welcome back," Jack said, pocketing his hands in his black pants. He threw a few glances up and down the street. "Where's the _Fairy?"_

Hiccup gave Toothless one last rub before answering. "She's parked in one of those truck distribution warehouses a few miles east. Figured she'd stick out in a street like this if Unity ever did a flyover."

Jack stuck out his lower lip and tilted his head back and forth to the left, acknowledging the point. "Nice. So, what's the big surprise?"

It was either the way Hiccup hunched in a little as the fiery orbs Anna had summoned hovered around her illuminated his anxious cringe, or how his hands went up as though to assuage something Jack wasn't feeling yet, but an ominous sensation settled in his stomach nonetheless. "Don't freak out…" he said, his voice coming across a little too forced for it to hide the nervousness.

"You saying that pretty much means I'm gonna freak out."

The cringe became a wince. "I know…" Hiccup took a breath, and his eyes rested upon Jack, and Anna and Kozmotis behind him in turn. Jack glanced at Rapunzel and Merida - odd how their eyes rested on _him_ rather than Hiccup.

"Just… try not to freak out."

Jack frowned, and was about to remind Hiccup on the finer points of reverse psychology when the brunette nodded to Toothless, who promptly rose his head to the sky and let off a faint blue torpedo, not unlike the one at the funeral. Jack followed the small light as it flew on to the heavens, and then back down to Hiccup, whose gaze was wary but expectant.

"What are you—"

The words stalled in his throat. Alerted by the sound of huge wings slowly beating the air, Jack's eyes went to his two o'clock high where, as though given birth by the veil of night time darkness and shadow into the pleasant fires of Anna's gifts, a majestic and vicious-looking creature reminded him of the same awestruck feeling he had when he first saw Toothless.

"Sweet mother of chocolate-coated fudge cubes!"

Jack deeply shared Anna's sentiment. Batlike teal-coloured wings flecked with yellow supported a huge body and thick legs, and a round head sported a beak-like mouth and a tiara of deadly-looking spines. It touched down seven feet to Hiccup's left, and its wary eyes darted between the six-strong welcoming committee.

Topping it off… _Astrid_ clambered down from its back, and muttered a strained hello.

They brought back another fucking _dragon._

Face slack with disbelief, Jack's eyes bounced between Hiccup and Astrid, before his brain finally kicked into gear and attempted a sentence. "You know when you asked me not to freak out? This kind of qualifies."

He took the time to shoot a glance at Merida and Rapunzel, who wore equal expressions of wide-eyed, gaping shock as they stared at Astrid - who seemed to be trying her best not to catch their eyes. A quick look behind him, and the same surprise adorned the faces of Kozmotis as Anna - though, the former's seemed tinged with disappointment.

"Everyone," Astrid began after a deep breath of preparation, "meet Stormfly. She's my best friend. Stormfly," she gestured to each of them in turn, "these are my friends."

"Don't be angry, Cap—"

Jack blurted out a mirthless bark of laughter, derived from how freaking _tense_ his entire body had become. "Angry? Hah! That's hilarious, Fury. Goddamn hilarious. Astrid… _what the fuck?"_

"I have ta concur with Cap here," Merida chimed in, with a voice that sounded to Jack like she was almost hurt. "We're yer friends, why didnae ye—"

"It's not exactly something you can drop in light conversation, okay?!" Astrid snapped. "Hi, I'm Astrid, and I have a dragon. Besides, it's not like the Ghosts trust us!"

"We were starting to, as a matter of fact!" Jack retorted, his volume growing by the syllable. "But then you had to pull this shit!"

Hiccup stepped forward, his hands up in peacemaker mode and he spoke with as calm a voice as possible. "I know it's a lot to take in, Cap—but you know what Toothless can do. Imagine what _two_ dragons are capable of."

What was it with the 'Cap' thing?

"Oh, don't you worry. I can imagine what two can do." Jack folded his arms. "Point is, we should have been told about this at the beginning."

Astrid took a step forward, and her face morphed into a defensive glare. One hand loosely gestured in Jack's direction. "We're not the only ones who needed to earn trust, you know. Bringing Stormfly here-" the hand moved to rest on her heart, "-was a huge thing for me. I had a chance to have my best friend with me, around people I'm sure she will be safe - so don't flip out because I did exactly what _you_ did."

Jack opened his mouth to retort, but a voice at the back of his mind pointed out she had him there. He couldn't exactly call her out on her reluctance without showing off a big case of the ol' _double standards._

Letting loose a deep sigh, he massaged his temples to calm the frustration buzzing in his chest like an angry hornet. "Fine," he said amid a long breath, "but in the interests of full disclosure: if anyone else has any _shocking_ or _fantastic_ secrets they'd like to share… now would be the time."

"Actually…"

Jack's entire upper body slumped in more than a little resigned exasperation. The kind of feeling one endured where the only words one could articulate would be, " _Oh, for fuck's sake,"_ accompanying the decision to give up and find a dark room in which to lay down and contemplate the pointlessness of it all. Slowly, his eyes found Rapunzel, whose face wore a tale of meek cringing, and whose hand was halfway up in the air like it was high school.

"That was rhetorical," Jack groaned, roughly wiping his palm down his face. He was getting too old for this. "But now you've gone and made me curious. Spit it out."

Rapunzel's hand gently lowered, and she cast two tell-tale glances at Merida and Astrid before continuing, "It's better if I show you," she said with a voice tinged with wariness and uncertainty.

Unable to deny the growing curiosity, Jack nodded his permission and folded his arms. He watched as Rapunzel asked Hiccup to remove his hearing aids, and kneel, something that caused a frown of confusion to be tossed Jack's way. It wasn't until Astrid reassured him, along with a nod of encouragement from his C.O. that he eventually acquiesced, and plucked the two white earpieces from his ears.

"You do know I won't be able to hear Jack say mocking things about me?"

Smirking, Jack couldn't resist. "What, like ' _you suck'?"_

Hiccup glanced at him. "What?"

"I said, ' _you look lovely tonight, sweetheart',"_ Jack practically yelled.

"Bullshit," Hiccup said with a snort as he got down on one knee so the comparatively dinky Rapunzel could stand behind him. Whilst casting a glance behind him at Kozmotis and Anna, whose expressions radiated wary yet rapt frowns, Jack's right hand automatically unhooked itself and hovered over the sidearm at his right thigh. Silence grew among the collective, with eyes dancing between each other and nary a breath heard.

Rapunzel carefully held her open hands over Hiccup's ears. "You might feel a slight itch," she said, before something happened that took Jack's breath away.

Whilst Rapunzel hummed a pleasant, melodic tune, golden light as vibrant as the metal itself blossomed in a small cloud from the palm of her hands, and tiny tendrils snaked their way into Hiccup's ears. His breath hanging his throat, Jack watched Hiccup's brow dance in and out of a discomforted frown, as though irritated by something… like an itch. No-one dared speak a word, take a breath or even _move_ , so entranced were they by the display.

The golden light began to fade, and dainty fingers enclosed around the last vestiges of the shimmering energy as the hands moved away, the only sounds for miles around being a long exhalation of breath through Rapunzel's nose, followed by a question.

"How do you feel, Night Fury?" the brunette asked quietly.

Hiccup shrugged lightly. "I've got the urge to stick my fingers in my ears, but-"

Had there been a penny to drop, it would have rivalled an overloading fuel cell for sheer explosive impact. Hiccup's face slackened into a gape, and his head slowly turned to gaze up at the shyly-smiling Rapunzel in stunned shock.

Jack wondered if he'd been too hasty in promoting Hiccup to be his X.O, if the brunette was too blinded by his euphoria and excitement at being able to hear again to see the truth staring him in the face.

"... Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Omigod!" he babbled. He touched his ears over and over. "I can hear! I can _hear_ again! Ohmygod! Thank you!"

He shot up so abruptly that Rapunzel nearly fell back in surprise, before throwing his arms around her, stammering his gratitude. "Thank you! How did you—what did you... "

Jack wondered if he was the only one simmering with fury, though his face must have told the whole story in neon lettering and roaring musical numbers - Hiccup, his face alight with glee and joy, turned and fixed him with a brilliant beam. "Jack, do you know what this means?"

Jack's voice came out in far louder and more menacing a growl than he anticipated, and _not_ as a result of Hiccup giving away his true name. Well, that was a small part of why he was pissed off. "I know _exactly_ what this means, Fury."

Astrid took a step forward and moved to stand just in front of Rapunzel, who stared at Jack with worried, wide eyes. Her right hand went up in a calming gesture. "Jack," she said, earning her a glare, "I know you're angry-"

"Oh, we're beyond that, _Astrid."_ The word anger didn't quite do justice the cold fury rolling through his being, clenching his fists and fusing his jaw. "I don't know what pisses me off most: the fact that while we were struggling to survive, we were being hunted down like animals by our _own damn kind-"_

No abnormal had ever killed another. It was an unspoken rule amongst them - how could an abnormal feel safe if they were under just as much threat from their own kind as from the humans running them to the ground?

It left a bitter taste in Jack's mouth that the very people they were supposed to save were systematically picking them off one by one.

"-or that you had all this time to tell us but waited until now!"

Hiccup interjected in a voice faint and shocked, void of the joyful cheer that once held sway. Part of Jack regretted taking apart his happiness - to be able to hear again without mechanical aid truly was a special gift. "You mean-"

"Yes, Fury," Jack said, barely stopping himself from a harsh snap as the glare was tossed his way, "they're abnormals."

Hiccup slowly turned his head toward Astrid. His eyes seemed to radiate deep confusion, matched perfectly by the hurt etched on his face. "Is this true?"

Astrid, to her credit, met his gaze - but her face wore a maelstrom frown of pride and guilt. It seemed to be all she could do to nod.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Rapunzel quickly darted to Astrid's side. Even amongst his deep ire, Jack felt a surge of respect; comparatively diminutive, yet protective of the person he knew was the physically strongest member of the group. "We didn't tell you, 'cause Elsa thought you'd flip out!" She angrily waved a hand in the vague direction of the Ghosts. "Surprise, she was right!"

"Can you blame us?" Anna retorted, the proximity of her outburst a telling sign she had moved to Jack's side. "It's not supposed to happen—it's a struggle for us to survive as it is! We abnormals are supposed to protect each other, not _kill_ each other!"

"If it pleases tha court," Merida piped up in an exasperated drawl, her hand held up as though she was uttering some kind of oath, "I said from tha start we shoulda told ye."

"You should have listened to her." Kozmotis' voice rang out from behind and to Jack's right, still stood on the veranda. Shooting him a glance, Jack felt a small sense of puzzlement that of all the Ghosts, his expression was a far cry from shock. It was like he saw it coming a mile off. So, why had he not said a word about it?

"Yeah, well, it's not like we wanted to keep it a secret!" Astrid gestured to Merida and Rapunzel respectively. "Hell, we only found out Larsen knew what we were just before you guys rescued us! We didn't even know about Elsa until we told her-"

Something in Jack snapped. Maybe it was the building frustration in his tightening chest, like a horde of enraged wasps, or the circumstantially weird and automatic sense of duty and obligation to protect his kind - and by extension, Merida, Astrid and Rapunzel - that fought with the frustration, but he reached the point where enough was enough. He turned on his heel and stormed off toward the house. "Streak, on me."

Anna quickly caught up with him and matched his admittedly punishing speed. "Where are we going?"

"To get some goddamn answers," he growled, fighting the urge to pull his staff from his bracer. "I'm getting a little fucking sick of being the last to know."

He threw open the front door, his irked state thoroughly intensified by the revelation that fucking _Unity_ knew they were abnormals before he did.

What did _that_ say about his leadership, reluctant though it was?

"Jack, wait," Anna called, breathless - a clear clue of her emotional state as there was no way in hell superhumans like them would be out of breath from a brisk walk, "this means my sister might be just like me!"

"I kinda put that together," Jack said in a low voice as they reached the hall.

"Do you think… do you think that's why she shut me out?"

There was no denying it; there was a high possibility. It made sense. Anna had no idea why Elsa put up a door between them, and it wasn't like she received answers from their parents. Left to her own imagination, there was no telling how many reasons there were in her mind, and Jack could only guess. If Elsa was an abnormal and their parents reacted badly - as the creators of the suppression serum, _that_ wasn't a stretch to assume - then it was only a short hop to presume Elsa was locked away for being one of them.

What if that was what she was trying to tell him two nights ago?

What if _that_ was why, inexplicably, they seemed to be emotionally linked?

Of course, it was all a wild theory.

"I don't know," he said amid a long sigh as they closed in on Elsa's door. "Only one way to find out."

He slowed his pace just enough as a silent prompt for Anna to do the honours; as though she read his mind, Anna darted in front and twisted the door knob.

 _Tried_ to twist - the lack of movement was a neon sign the door was locked.

"W-what?" Anna muttered in disbelief, shaking her head. "No—no, not again…"

She attempted to twisted it four more times, calling through the door as she banged her knuckles against it. "Elsa? Are you there? It's me… open the door, please? I need to talk to you!"

Silence greeted her like an unwelcome companion, a telling quiet that threw a measure of disquiet in with the frustration. Stranger still, the faint fear and concern he'd been feeling since he woke up at six that morning, was no longer inhabiting his bones.

Jack watched as Anna banged on Elsa's door a few more times, each thump radiating more and more worry, before she looked at him with uncomprehending, wide eyes. "It's happening again, Jack. She locked me out again."

Jack's jaw tightened. "Not this time," he growled. Gesturing for Anna to stand aside - he'd learned a thing or two about chivalry over his years - he took position in front of the door. Drawing his right foot back, he fixed his gaze on a spot next to the door knob and yelled, "If you're there, heads up!"

With half his strength - any more and his foot would have gone through - he applied a brutal kick to the door. A pained crack echoed through the hall, followed immediately by a hollow slam as it swung open, smacked against the adjacent wall and bounced off, shaking with the impact.

Empty.

The room was void of light and life, even when Anna summoned another small orb of flame to guide them. The bed in the middle of the room was neatly made, and the floor was impeccably clear. His initial desire to give Elsa a piece of his mind rapidly fading, Jack's eyes traced over the still room, confusion taking its place.

"Jack."

He looked at Anna, whose free hand was extended into a point in front of her. He followed it, his gaze coming to rest on the reason for the worry in her eyes.

The window on the other side of the bed was wide open. Like a bullet, Anna dashed toward and vaulted the bed, before screeching to halt at the window, where her hands grasped the bottom pane whilst she stuck her head out. Her head moved this way and that with agitated, quick jerks as she ostensibly and pointlessly scanned the darkened back yard.

"I can't see her," she said, her voice taut and succinct.

Jack moved beside her and tried to peer out. Between the night time absence of light and the surrounding houses, it was a near impossibility to see _anything._

"This is bad," Anna babbled, her words spilling out like a machine gun. "This is really bad. She ran away—why would she run away? She doesn't know where we are, she'll be lost and scared and—"

Before Jack could process what was happening, foreboding and anxiety-inducing as it was, he felt a pair of hands grab him by the T-shirt, and came face to face with a decidedly panicked Anna.

"You have to find her!"

Jack's eyes widened, his brain having to reboot in surprise so all he could manage was a bewildered, "Buh?"

"Please, you have to find her and bring her home!"

The hell was she asking of him? "Anna, it's night time! How the heck do you think I'll find her?"

The hands tightened around his shirt, and the heat radiating through the material felt like it was burning his cold skin underneath. Not to mention the light shaking.

"You've got that Frosty Sense, just like on the _Star!_ You can feel her—use that!

Jack was about to point out that his so-called _Frosty Sense -_ whoever came up with that name needed a good whap upside their head - had been silent over the past two weeks, save for the occasional faint sensations. There was no guarantee he'd even be able to find her with it.

"Please, Jack. She's out there, alone, and we're close to Reaper country. Find her."

Something in Anna's face tore aside all the what-ifs and wherefores - she looked _scared._ Eyes wide and face taut, she seemed desperate… and had he any reluctance to begin with, it would have crumbled away.

"Alright," he said. "Let me get my mask and goggles - at least the thermal imaging might help."

Anna threw her arms around him with a squeak of gratitude, and in less than a minute, he was soaring through the air with nothing but his wits, thermal vision and an unreliable _Frosty Sense_ to guide him.

No pressure.

* * *

It had taken roughly half an hour of circular flight, with an ever increasing search radius, but the prodigal Elsa Snowfield was located several miles away to the east.

In a dose of irony not lost on him, it wasn't the thermal imaging he'd been using to scour the landscape below him - _that_ was just to pinpoint her yellowy-orange figure quickly moving through the park he'd scouted earlier in the day.

No, it was his sensing of her. As his radius of flight grew and grew, he'd begun to feel sensations alien to his current emotional state - deep fear and resolute love. Those feelings had intensified the further he flew, and in a strange twist that bewildered him to no end, if he could describe the rogue emotions as a cloud within his gut, the cloud seemed to migrate inside his body depending on where he was flying. If he travelled south, the emotions coalesced in his left side.

Following the pseudo-compass, he picked up her body heat a quarter mile at his low twelve o'clock, her pace quick and purposeful. His brow knitted together over his goggles, and his jaw tensed behind his mask - with a silent command to the wind, he swooped down like a falcon and touched down on the wet grass less than ten feet behind her.

She yelled at him without turning around before he even had a chance to open his mouth.

"Stay away!"

Jack froze in step, taken aback. How the hell did she know? It wasn't like the wind gave him away - wind was a force of nature, not a greeting. Could it be that she possessed the same sensations, that they shared a connection? Could she _feel_ what he felt?

He banished the thought from his mind; it wasn't the time for guesswork. No time for anything but getting the fuck back home.

"Can't do that, Snow Queen." He started off toward her, sliding his goggles onto his forehead. "What the hell are you doing?"

She didn't answer him, at least, not with words. Rather, he could hear her faint moans and whimpers, and a closer inspection indicated her posture was hunched with her arms wrapped around her chest like she was cold. Was she in pain?

"Why are you running, Snow Queen?"

"You… you wouldn't understand!" she called back. He was within six feet of her, and closing in.

More moans and sharp intakes of breath came hot on the heels of her response. "Look, if this is about keeping your gifts secret… we can talk about it, okay? Anna's worried about you, just come back to the house!"

She didn't respond, aside from more moans and groans of greater intensity. Whatever was going on was gaining strength, and her utterances of pain were clawing at his empathy like a beast begging for help. He jogged a couple of steps, and reached for her right shoulder.

"Elsa—"

She yanked herself away like his very touch was burning her, scrambling backwards with her hands held before her. "Stay away, Frost! I… I don't want to hurt you! Any of you! Just stay away, and you'll be safe from me!"

"Elsa, you're not making any sense, I—"

She suddenly cried out, her face contorted with pain, and Jack's words died in his throat as his heart skipped a beat in shock. Her legs trembled a split second before they gave way, and as though protective instinct took absolute control of his reflexes, Jack dropped his staff as he surged forward and grasped her forearms - the abrupt shift in position causing him to drop to his knees along with her. She quickly withdrew her hands, with Jack at a complete loss for words, and wrapped one of them around her chest while the other clawed at her braided hair, messy and flyaway, shimmering in the moonlight as the ethereal spectre burst through a gap in the clouds.

"It's happening again, it's happening again, _fuck,_ it hurts, it hurts—why does it hurt so bad?" she said in an onslaught of agonised babbling that spilled out like a waterfall, rocking backwards and forwards. She looked almost _delirious._

It was when he looked up at her hand, just as she shrieked when a sharp jerk tore through her body, that he finally understood - for her hair was not the only thing glittering in the moonlight, but her _hand_ too.

It didn't take him long to recognise his signature element, the one he was named after. Frost adorned her entire hand in unruly, jagged patterns far removed from the leafy, curved shapes it usually painted. As though for confirmation, he looked down at the grassy ground, eyes wide, and saw the very same icy substance spreading around them. The grass blades were freezing solid before his very eyes, and ice spread around her like a slow, pernicious, creeping wave, as though consuming all in its path.

"You're going through a Bloom…" he whispered.

As if their situation wasn't dire enough, Elsa's agonised cries and wails had attracted attention. The night air burst into life with a distant, bone chilling shriek, sending a bolt of barely controlled fear down Jack's spine.

Elsa had called, and Reapers had answered.

"We've gotta get you out of here," he hissed. Touching his right ear, he said,"Frost to Streak, you read me? Your ass better be—"

" _I'm here, did you find her?"_

Another shriek rang through the air like a hot knife through butter. They were closing in. His heart thundering in his mouth, flooding his body and mind with sharpening adrenaline, he snatched his staff up from the ground.

"I did - but there's a catch."

" _What? Oh, please tell me she's—"_

"No time!" Jack pulled Elsa to the side, and supported her upper body with his left arm whilst he manoeuvred his staff-hand under the crook of her knees. "Do exactly what I say: have everyone clear out the basement. I want nothing in it except for one bed and some blankets, okay?"

" _What the—why do you—"_

"Just do it!" Supporting the screaming Elsa as best he could, he summoned a burst of wind to propel them with stomach-lurching speed into the air, a few seconds before the sound of anguished screeches below reminded him how lucky he was. "I'll explain when we get home!"

Elsa clawed at his right shoulder with her left hand, groaning and mewling into the crook of his neck and left collar bone. He could feel ice creeping from her touch, and his hands felt her body temperature falling fast.

She was running out of time.

"It's gonna be okay," he found himself muttering to her. "Just hold on. It's gonna be okay."

* * *

Anna was already there to greet them, rushing down from the veranda with a speed born of deep concern before Jack had even landed, her braid tails bobbing with each step. Her wide eyes fixed themselves on the beleaguered Elsa, still wracked with pain and clinging to Jack like he was life itself.

"What happened out there? Is she gonna be okay? Did Reapers—"

"She's starting her Bloom Event, Anna," Jack cut her off, barely losing any momentum from the flight with how fast he strode to the door.

Anna, her head over her shoulder as she dashed to the door and opened it for him, flattening herself against the wall of the hallway. Elsa was getting colder by the second. "She's _blooming?_ But I thought she was…"

"Already an abnormal?" Jack finished gruffly as he strode through the open door. "Yeah, so did I. Chalk it up to the long list of things we were wrong about."

"Oh, God. This is bad." Anna darted to his right, and leaned in with her left hand on his right shoulder. "Elsa, can you hear me? It's going to be okay. We're gonna take care of you."

"Anna…" Jack heard Elsa weakly murmur from under his chin. He glanced down just for a second, and saw her hand pull away from his shoulder and reach for her sister.

"Hey, you! I'm here," Anna whispered, a smile fighting the clear-as-day expression of worry as she grasped Elsa's hand and held it tighter than anything Jack had ever seen. "Whoa," she whispered. "She's so cold…"

"Anna… I'm so sorry…"

They closed in on the worn door leading to the basement at the end of the hall, where Hiccup, Kozmotis, Astrid, Rapunzel and Merida were waiting with tangible anxiety hanging over them like a cloud.

"Don't worry about that, just keep it together, okay?"

Kozmotis held open the door with his left hand and pressed himself into a right angle against the wall to the side. Still grasping Elsa's hand, Anna darted in front of Jack to descend the stairs into the basement before them, leading them into the newly empty basement where, as expected, only a bed existed.

Jack arched a brow as soon as he laid his eyes on the sole piece of furniture nestled in the far left corner of the room parallel to the opposite wall - it was _his_ bed. Anna had a funny sense of humour.

With great care and purposeful movements, Jack made his way onto the left side of the bed and gently laid Elsa down upon it. As soon as her body touched the old, decrepit mattress, she instantly curled into the foetal position, sounds of anguished moaning and crying escaping her mouth, her hand still clinging to Anna's like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

Jack shot Anna a look, a silent command for them to leave. Anna's brow furrowed in a small frown as her breath audibly caught in her throat, and she threw a telling glance in her sister's direction.

"Do I have to?" she whispered.

Jack gave her a grave look - he wasn't ignorant to her position, but her safety was paramount… even if she didn't know it yet. "Yeah. The others need to know the sitch, and you can explain the sciency stuff better than I can."

Anna's hand must have loosened the slightest inch, as Elsa practically yanked her hand closer toward her and pleaded, "Please don't leave me…"

"It'll only be for a few minutes," Jack said - even though, in his heart, he chastised himself for such a blatant lie.

"There, see? I'll be right back," Anna soothed.

Elsa, seemingly satisfied in amongst the paralysing, terrible ordeal she was undergoing, allowed the release of Anna's hand, and after a long, lingering look, the two Ghosts made their way upstairs.

Almost as soon as Jack closed the door behind them - leaving it ajar for Anna's benefit - and removed his mask and goggles, they were subjected to a barrage of questions from the rest of the group.

"What's going on?"

"What happened out there?"

"Did you hurt her, Frost?"

"Is Elsa gonna be okay?"

It was on the tip of Jack's tongue to issue a vicious barb in Astrid's direction for assuming his responsibility for Elsa's state, but he checked himself, settling instead for a scathing glare as he handed his protective face gear to Hiccup.

"What happened out there, Rapunzel," he said, giving a few more seconds of the stink-eye to Astrid before looking at the brunette, "was that Elsa started her Bloom Event."

Something in the way the three former Valkyries shot each other a set of tell-tale glances threatened to cause a resurgence of his earlier irked mood, so he pinched hard at the bridge of his nose and groaned, "Y'know, kids, when this is over we're going to have a nice, long talk about _not_ pissing your C.O. off."

"But that's good, right?" Hiccup, though looking completely stunned by the new revelation had, to his credit, brought back his usual optimistic demeanour. "So why do you two look like the world's about to end?"

Jack shook his head and rested his hands on his hips. "Because this is not how it's supposed to go."

Astrid looked baffled by the development, shrugging with her palms up. "Um… pain, discomfort, thinking you're gonna die? That sounds like a normal Bloom to me."

Negating that with a light wave of his hand, Jack shook his head once again. "Yeah, except the _age_ is wrong. There's a reason Bloom Events happen only in adolescence."

He looked to Anna, a silent prompt for her to take the floor. She nodded once, and folded her arms as she took a breath. "We all know what happens during adolescence, right? Boobs, body hair, broken voice—"

"Bigger di—" Jack began, but a stern look from Anna silenced him a treat. He closed his mouth, and scratched at the back of his head.

"Point is, all of that's caused by one thing."

"Hormones," Rapunzel chimed in.

Anna clicked a finger and pointed to her. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Testosterone, oestrogen, all of that's raging through the body. My theory is that the Toxin-augmented DNA switches on at some point, and hacks into our glands to release Toxin-infected hormones that flow through our system and switch on the abnormal DNA in the rest of our cells. That's what happens during a Bloom - your adolescent body is in such a state of flux, the Toxin DNA takes advantage of that by killing off and replacing human cells with abnormal cells, and replicating them at an exponential rate. The pain we experience is 'cause our nervous system gets converted too - and just like puberty, we abbies bloom at different ages."

"Kinda like building a tower with blue blocks, only for someone to come along before you finished, and tell you to build it with red blocks instead?" Hiccup said.

"You're oversimplifying it, Hiccup… but, yes, essentially," Kozmotis said. "And because of all that, a Bloom Event can be relatively rapid."

Merida looked bemused by the whole situation and how dire it was. "So… why'd ye look so worried, if ye know what's gonna happen ta her?"

"Because Elsa is twenty five, same age as Frost. She's about as physically mature as she's going to get - blooms happen between the ages of thirteen to eighteen… maybe as early as eleven or as late as nineteen years old, but…"

Anna trailed off, her gaze finding a small spot on the opposite wall while her crossed arms looped themselves around her chest in a protective embrace.

"It means," Jack continued for her, "Elsa is a fully grown adult, so there's no hormonal rush or growth imperative for the Toxin to hijack - therefore it's killing off her human cells to remake them way more slowly than it usually would. To use Hiccup's analogy, Elsa's tower has already been finished, so the Toxin is taking the tower apart to rebuild it. Elsa's body is literally being remade from scratch." He rubbed at the nape of his neck, reluctant to finish the grave news, but obligated to do so. "Bloom Events put the body under enormous stress when they happen anyway… but for a fully grown adult, and one who has probably been holding her Bloom Event back for so long?"

"My sister might not survive the night," Anna whispered in a hoarse voice, and a single glance revealed the tell tale glimmer of tears sliding down her cheeks. "The stress of a slow Bloom could kill her."

The statement was met with a gasp of horror from all concerned, including a sharp intake through Kozmotis' nose and a whispered, "Oh, God," from Rapunzel. Grave expressions met grave expressions, and pregnant silence was the order of the night.

Anna sniffed, and then unlaced her hands to palm away the tears from her cheeks. "I should be in there - she needs someone with her."

She turned, and made to push open the door - which was when Jack darted in her way. It was time to reveal the lie and break her heart. She looked up at him with uncomprehending, confused eyes.

"Jack, what are you doing?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Anna. I can't let you go in there."

Her face tightened into a deep frown and a hearty glare, and she moved to the side in an attempt to pass. "What are you talking about? Let me—"

"No, Anna. I can't do that."

"Jack, stop this!" she shouted. "Get out of the—"

Jack grasped her by the upper arms, his own temper and anxiety rising.

" _I can't, Anna because you'll die!"_

She froze, and stared at him in complete disbelief. "W-what?" she blurted, taking a step back, pulling herself from his grasp.

Biology and the mechanics of blooming was Anna's domain, but powers? As the de facto powers trainer on the _Star,_ they were in Jack's neck of the woods.

There were two types of abnormal manifestation: _Internal_ , and _External._ People like Hiccup and Hiro qualified as _Internal,_ in that their gifts manifested inside them via their gifts in engineering and pseudo-technopathy, respectively. To a degree, Kristoff was an _Internal,_ and Eugene definitely qualified.

 _Externals,_ however, were people whose powers manifested outside of their body, people like Anna, Kozmotis, Rapunzel, and Jack himself. _Externals_ usually had a harder time controlling their powers unless properly trained, and their Blooms were usually… explosive.

Elsa was definitely an _External._

"Anna, think back to when you bloomed. Do you remember?"

"Y-yeah?"

Jack held her arms once again, however with far less of a tight grip than before. "Okay - so what do you think'll happen with someone who has powers like mine?"

"What happens?" Rapunzel asked. _Someone_ had to, even if the falling of Anna's face into a look of defeat told him she understood.

"It's like being born, or taking that first breath after coming out of the water. If your powers are external, then there's this massive spike in strength. When Anna bloomed, the fire took down an entire warehouse… but Elsa is someone on the opposite end of the spectrum. I'm talking a massive drop in temperature. I'm talking _sub zero_ cold _."_

"I can buy that," Astrid said. "I nearly brought my room down around my head when I bloomed."

"Me dad had ta have tha entire house's power system repaired after mine," Merida added.

"I brought someone back from the dead," Rapunzel chimed in. As soon as six pairs of eyes rested themselves upon her in disbelief, she cringed and tried to distract them. "Was it the same for you, Jack?"

"Wouldn't know," Jack responded a little more deadpan than he anticipated. "I was technically dead for mine."

He turned his gaze away from the collected looks of bewilderment sent his way, and looked back down to Anna, whose expression danced betwixt resignation and stubborn confidence. "But my powers will protect me," she protested.

"No, they won't." Jack shook his head. He hated breaking Anna's heart like that, but it was for her own good. "Your body temperature is higher than any of ours, so you'll feel the cold more. You'll catch hypothermia, or shut down from shock. Trust me - I know. Besides-" he nodded to her abdomen, "I'm thinking of my godson, too."

Stubborn as Anna could be - he expected her immediate priority would be to protect and care for her sister, and he wouldn't have it any other way - the way her entire body seemed to slump told him she had no other choice. Her face wracked itself with guilt and regret, and as her hands went to hold her abdomen, she whispered, "You're being such a pain in the ass, and you haven't even been born yet."

"So what are we going to do about Elsa?" Astrid asked. "We can't just leave her alone in there. It's not right."

"She won't be." Jack kept his hands on Anna's arms, even as he looked up at Astrid. He'd seen it all coming as soon as he realised Elsa was blooming and what her powers would be, seen the end of the path they'd walked. There was no other way. "I'll be there for her."

"Jack, that's crazy," Rapunzel hissed. "Who knows what you could be walking into?"

"I'm the only one who can tolerate the sub zero cold. Besides-" he released Anna, and crossed his arms across his chest. "Most of us, when we bloomed? We were scared, in terrible pain, and alone. Elsa is terrified out of her mind, she's in agony…" he looked down into Anna's eyes, "but she won't be alone."

Anna emitted a small squeak, and rushed forward to bury her head into his chest, squeezing his torso with her arms. Half-smiling, Jack curled his arms around her shoulders. "You sure you're gonna be okay?"

Jack snorted, his best attempt at lightening a situation as tense and heavy as any he'd ever witnessed. Elsa was undergoing a bloom six years late, with uncontrollable power spikes and temperature falls, and he was about to walk into a room full of them. "I'll be fine - it's not like a little arctic temperature bothered me, anyway. Iceweaver, remember?"

There was a small, adorable titter from the area of his chest squished by a pint-sized Fireweaver going through hell, followed by a small sniff. "Okay. What should the rest of us do?"

"This is gonna be tough for you, so you gotta be strong, okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise me?"

She nodded into his chest. "I promise."

"Okay." He unlaced his arms, and gently pushed her away. She stared up at him with shimmering, scared, pained eyes. "As soon as I go through the door, you need to lock it behind me, and then block all of the gaps with blankets, clothes, anything. There's a vent in there, so air won't be a problem."

Anna looked severely discomforted at the prospect, not that he could blame her. She was about to lock her best friend _and_ her sister away for an indeterminate amount of time. "Okay."

"Then, you take the others, find some more blankets and clothes and hole up in the furthest room in the house. I'm gonna do what I can to control it, but this house is gonna get real cold, so you need to keep them warm. Go aflame if you have to - but no matter what, you do _not_ open this door, unless you want sub-arctic air to flood the house. If everything goes right, I'll bang on the door when it's all over."

"And if it goes wrong?"

Jack looked up at Kozmotis, and stuck out his tongue. "It's not going to go wrong, Mr. Glass Half Empty, because everything's gonna work out. I'll look after Elsa, Anna will take care of the rest of you, and tomorrow Elsa will be a brand spanking new abnormal." He tapped his right temple with two fingers, and threw in an impish smirk. "Positive thinking. Works great."

He gave Anna a reassuring smile. "Relax." he made a gesture of two fingers walking a line, "I'll be quick as a bunny."

"Good luck," she said, beaming at him, "and thank you."

Jack nodded once, and clapped her on the shoulder before turning to the door. He rested a hand on the door knob, and took a long breath of preparation. "Once more into the breach, dear friends," he murmured, and pushed open the door before closing it behind him and descending the steps, not allowing himself a second thought.

It was every bit as dire as he thought it would be.

Ice had grown over every conceivable inch of the room, hard ice that looked to be at least two inches thick, covered in sporadic dustings of snow. The empty space was filled with snowflakes, some smooth, some jagged, and they floated around in speeds ranging from a sedate hover to a frenetic zip. Long icicles grew like stalactites from the walls, floor and ceiling, tapering into points sharp enough to cut skin to shreds - and _some_ were forming or shrinking before his very eyes - and on the bed in the corner, hunched in a foetal position, shivering violently was Elsa.

Jack couldn't help but feel an immense surge of pity and empathy for the suffering woman, still moaning and whimpering in pain; undergoing a Bloom was tough enough, with some considering it worse than childbirth, but one that had been building for years?

"Anna?" she forced out in a weak voice. Her eyes were clamped shut.

Jack weaved to the side, avoiding a horizontal icicle he was certain wasn't that long five seconds ago. "Nah," he said, "I can't carry the twin braid look like she can."

For a brief moment, he pictured his snow white hair in a pair of braids. It wasn't pretty.

Her eyes opened a little, and she managed to whisper a faint, "Frost?" before crying out in such turmoil, Jack's heart jolted.

"Call me Jack," he said, making his way to the bed. "Anna couldn't be here, so I'm looking after you instead."

"Why?" she croaked. "I deserve… this…"

"How'd you figure that?" Even if she was going through hell, she was still the recipient of a funny look he gave her as he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"The things I've… done. The… people I've… hurt. I let someone… trick me… control… Oh, God, I feel like I'm being torn apart… am I going to die?"

There was a spine-chilling shriek of agony, and her hand lashed out with blinding speed and grasped his left fingers with such a vice-like grip, it felt like she was crushing them.

"Kill me!" she pleaded. "I'm too dangerous… make it safe for everyone else! Just… end it!"

Jack's eyes widened - that was a first. He figured at some stage in a Bloom Event everyone wondered if they were going to die, but to actually _ask_ for death?

Maybe she was still delirious with pain.

He inhaled a breath, and tried his damndest to force away his emotions. She needed a rock, a safe harbour in the storm of her Bloom. "Can't do that. There's a young woman upstairs who loves and misses her sister, even if she's still confused."

For a few precious seconds, the glazed look in her eyes seemed to sharpen, and she looked at him with an undefinable expression. Whether she was being granted a reprieve from the physical agony or not, he didn't know, but it was well-needed.

"Can… can you… hold me?"

Jack's lips curled into a half-smile that narrowed his eyes, and his right hand covered her hand that was squeezing his left. It was strange; there was a woman who had caused him and his kind so much grief, who had indirectly caused the likely deaths of over thirty of his comrades-in-arms; who he would freely admit he wanted to kill not long ago, and yet in that moment he felt like he would do anything for her. Freeze the world - she had but only to ask.

Perhaps it was that he was feeling everything _she_ felt.

"Sure. Scootch over."

She did as requested, gingerly shuffling further into the bed space on weak limbs, wincing with every inch of movement. Jack turned and swung his legs up onto the bed, and bum-shuffled up so he could lay with his head on the pillow. Almost immediately, Elsa curled her right arm around his chest and brought her right leg around his as she rested her head on his right breast, while Jack looped his right arm around her torso and stroked her upper right arm with his left hand.

The frantic pace of the snowflakes seemed to soften, and though it was likely down to his mental control, the icicles grew with far less speed than before - and though she still jerked, whimpered and groaned into his chest, there were nowhere near as many screams of agony.

They laid there, entwined, for what felt like an eternity, with the sensations of nails digging through his shirt into his skin, and her arm squeezing his chest hard enough to break an ordinary human's ribs… until after a long moment of quiet, shuddering breaths… she faintly giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"All this time… you called me Snow Queen," she said, her voice hoarse and broken thanks to her screams and cries. "It's funny that… it took you until now… while I'm in this state… to call me Elsa."

Any reply Jack had lined up, be it a sarcastic retort or humble concession, was immediately chased away by one of the most chilling, protracted shrieks she had uttered thus far. His cognitive thought and ability to form complex sentences rendered useless, he summoned up the best thing he could think of.

"It's gonna be okay," he murmured. "It's gonna be okay."

It was a lie…

...but a beautiful lie nonetheless.

_End of Act II_

_End of Book I_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have it, the culmination of the events of the first book. It's been a helluva ride, and I'm, quite frankly, a little exhausted.
> 
> The Ghosts know the ex-Valkyries are abnormals, and [Stormfly has joined the party! Press A to view skills]. Elsa is enduring the most painful experience of her life - will she survive the night? What will happen to Astrid and Hiccup?
> 
> And what will tomorrow bring?
> 
> A/N:
> 
> I realise a few people have been thinking, "When is the reveal?" but this was it. I sincerely hope it was worth waiting for, because this was how it was going to go down from the start. I'm also blown away by the positive reception of the Pitch and Merida interactions; I know a lot of people are adamant that Merida should remain single, and Pitch is... Pitch, but quite a few people both on here and FFN have been incredibly receptive of it and actively encourage it. I just hope I can do it justice - essentially having launched a new, tiny ship. Probably a rowboat... more than likely one of those duck-shaped paddleboats.
> 
> Okay, as for what's happening next: I'm taking a month off, and will be writing again come the end of March. Kinda need to regenerate, so you'll probably see NH updates every now and then, and maybe some on my Widow76 fic if I can muster the energy, but I'll largely be resting. Big things are happening in the next book - plot developments, relationship blossoms, rocky roads and a parachute-less freefall scene that hopefully will be awesome.
> 
> However, in the next week or two, I'll update this particular book with three post-credit scenes, two of which will hopefully be a massive twist in the story.
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone, from the bottom of my heart, who has been reading, commenting and bookmarking this fic. Your positive comments have been amazing and heartwarming to read, and your criticisms have been constructive. Thanks to zulka for helping to no end with the conception, refinement and editing of this fic, thanks to OniNoKo for their help with this chapter, and thanks to my wife for generally being the most amazing woman on the planet.
> 
> Okay, so, all that's left is to say: see you in the next book!
> 
> For the Ghosts,
> 
> Furiyan


	49. Post-Credits Stingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, as you all have probably inferred, I have a passing fascination with Marvel movies. So, as is tradition with productions from Marvel Studios, here are two "post-credit stingers". There were supposed to be three, but the third would be better served as part of Book Two itself.
> 
> Warning: the first one contains smut. MaravillaKatana is rubbing off on me.

" **The Greatest Trick the Devil Ever Pulled"**

He'd done his part.

He'd acted the role of the grieving brother. Worn the mask of a sorrowful sibling lamenting the fate of a role model taken too soon. Attended the funeral procession through the streets of New Arendelle, following just in his shadow as per usual, and endured the wailing of the onlookers and the dirty looks of his other eleven siblings. Given a fitting yet empty eulogy at the burial, concealing his puzzlement at the solemn contemplation adorning countless faces before him.

All of that, plus having to act the part of the bereaved brother so convincingly his own father was fooled, in the stage production of Supreme Commander Henrik Larsen's Exquisite Yet Completely Nauseating And Redundant Funeral was, quite frankly, exhausting.

The cast of his brother's favourite procedural crime holo-show was among the processions attendees, however. He'd have liked that.

The moment Hans walked into his luxurious New Arendelle apartment, away from the trivial and perplexing emotional turmoil of the family mansion, was the moment he could finally let the mask drop and banished the conjured emotions of grief and sorrow. There were many things he'd rather have done, but still. One must keep up appearances.

Passing through the living room toward the bedroom door at the far left, he began unbuttoning the jacket of his dress uniform. A moment of rest before the next phase of his scheme, the ascension to Supreme Commander. It was a sure thing - the success of the Purge had seen to that - but one cannot account for the unpredictability of life.

Yes, rest.

When he opened the door to his bedroom, however, and made a beeline toward the wardrobe on the opposite wall where his spare uniforms were kept, a voice crept his way from the vicinity of his bed. Husky and playful, it reminded him of carnal escapades and depraved antics.

"You know, you almost had _me_ convinced."

Startled, his head whipped around, and his gaze rested upon the voice's owner. There she was, draped on her side on his bed like an irresistible temptress, his grey silk sheets moulded around her like they were but an extension of her glorious, curvaceous body, stopping just above her nipples yet showing off her cleavage like a silent coax. She looked at him with hungry yet amused emerald eyes, her loose red hair cascading down the arm propping her head up and pooling onto his silk pillow.

"How did you get in here, Kowalski?"

His snap did not make her flinch in the least. Rather, her smile widened, and even the way she slowly _blinked_ aroused a familiar sensation in his pants.

"I have my ways, _Supreme Commander,"_ she said, her sultry tones doing a marvellous job of strengthening his arousal.

Hans watched her for a few more seconds, before scoffing quietly. He turned back to the wardrobe and resumed unbuttoning his dress jacket as his other hand opened the oak door. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Kowalski."

"Oh, but I disagree." There was an edge to her voice that instantly held his attention, and set off a sensation of wariness in his gut. "I think it's only a matter of time."

Hans froze, and the button slipped from his left hand. He turned back, right hand clenching at his hip. Eyes narrowing, he gave her a look of utter suspicion.

"Why are you here?"

She let out a small but sly giggle, and her voice took on an edge of silkiness. "I have a proposition."

"And what would _that_ be?"

Her right index finger slowly, temptingly, moved to the empty space of the bed where it glided delicate circles in the bedsheet. "Well, part of my career… _under_ you… is to see patterns. To see the devil in the details. One might look at the events leading up to this moment as coincidental, but… three years ago, the Valkyries were created, and they did a _marvellous_ job of cleaning up the abnormal filth. Under the late Supreme Commander, they become the poster girls for Unity's military - and subsequently, application numbers have never been higher. However, no-one knew who was the true mastermind behind their creation."

Hans stiffened, his mind already conjuring his options, predicting where her train of thought was leading.

"Three years later, the Purge. Several weeks after that, Supreme Commander Henrik Larsen and High Inquisitor Gothel Delrada are murdered while on their way to a routine inspection… by the very same black ops squad the Supreme Commander oversaw. A strike team is dispatched, and the Valkyries are shot down and destroyed, thus paving the way for Inquisitor Jafar… and _you…_ to ascend to their positions. All of Unity sees this as a horrible turn of events, as some kind of coincidence… but I saw a cleverly constructed scheme… and opportunity."

"For what?" Hans asked, his voice low and careful. "All I hear is the product of a vivid imagination."

Another giggle. "Perhaps."

He stalked over to the bed, clambering onto the mattress like a predator cornering its prey. Grabbing her wrists, she emitted a surprised gasp as he pinned them either side of her head, and leaned down over her, staring deep into her eyes with darkness… and lust. "And even if, hypothetically, you were right - what's to stop me from having you executed for sedition?"

Her smile widened, and Hans was gaining the impression he had underestimated just how dangerous and attractive she was. "Absolutely nothing. All I have is a theory, and even _if_ I told anyone… who would believe a lowly personal assistant over the man who orchestrated the destruction of the abnormals? No… I am vulnerable, in an extremely precarious position. I am no threat - _you_ have all the power. I have nothing to offer as a bargain… except…"

"Except _what?"_ Hans growled.

"Myself," she answered so matter of factly, he wondered if she hadn't been plotting it from the beginning. "How hard do you intend to pursue this? How deep? How… far will you go?"

If it hadn't already, Hans' pants were stiffening to breaking point. Kowalski had a way with words in the bedroom, dirty talk and innuendo that consistently teased his arousal and intensified his lust to an animalistic level. She was the only person who made him feel _anything_ , even if it was sexual or powerful in nature. His hungry gaze traced every inch of her perfect face, and a rush of heat swelled in his abdomen.

"All the way," he murmured, as he lowered his lips to brush against hers.

"Well, we have a problem," she responded. "don't we?"

Hans' lips glided over to her neck. "And what would _that_ be?"

There was a small gasp, and Hans could feel the shift of her weight on the bed as she arched her back.

"Becoming Unifier would put an end to our regular meetings - it would be unspeakable for one in such a position of power to continue an illicit sexual relationship with a lowly personal assistant of the _Staging Ground…_ and I have become rather fond of how you fuck me," she explained, her voice breathy.

"So, what is it you want?"

Kowalski let out a playful titter, followed by a sharp moan as his tongue played with the crook of her neck. "Personal Assistant to the Unifier sounds like a prestigious position, don't you agree?"

"It does." Hans released her wrists and straightened up. His hands glided down her arms, over her shoulders, and grasped the fabric of the silk sheet. Slowly, teasingly, he pulled it down, uncovering her glorious and ample breasts for his visual delight. Large, soft as cotton, with nipples rock hard and at attention. Just how he liked them. "I have fantasised about fucking you senseless over the Unifier's table."

"I look forward to making that a reality for you," she said in a come-hither voice that did little for his raging lust, her hands reaching to hold his shoulders, a pleased smile adorning her lips, "but for now…"

He felt a gentle push against his left shoulder as a silent request to change position. Normally he would harden his body and resist, preferring to be the one on top and in control, but something about her at that moment gave him pause, telling him that maybe once, she should be on top. Maybe she should take the lead, at least for the next hour or so. He slipped out of his dress jacket and tossed it away, seconds before her soft, hungry lips crashed against his with a desire and thirst she'd rarely displayed until then. He followed her wordless direction, and laid down on his back at her side, watching her beautiful breasts sway temptingly over his chest as she clambered over him, and felt the tell-tale searing heat of her wetness against his hardened groin.

"...my commanding officer has had a tough day, and I know just how to help him relax."

Hans said nothing as she shuffled backwards, choosing instead to revel in the feeling of his pants being undone and yanked down to his ankles, and bask in the sensation of her scalding mouth as she wolfed him down. Her cheeks hollowing, she locked gazes with him as her head bobbed, turned and shook over his length… and she never looked prettier than she did sucking him off.

Maybe the arrangement would be worthwhile - especially when the next thing out of her delectable mouth reminded him of just how handy she was - and how he'd underestimated her - once his length left her mouth with a loud pop.

"There is one thing that is concerning me," she murmured, before leaning over his dick and wrapping her voluptuous bosom around it. A shuddering breath escaped his throat at the sheer bliss of her silky skin gliding up and down.

"And that is?" he asked with a touch of a growl.

"The Valkyries were destroyed, leaving behind nothing but a sword and a smoking crater, correct?"

"Yes," Hans answered, trying to focus on her line of questioning and _not_ on the sensations of pure pleasure coursing through him.

"So," she continued, stopping once to suck on the tip before speeding up her jerking, "why did none of our fighters return?"

Hans' eyes snapped open. She was right, and he'd been too focused on the next stage of his scheme, preoccupied with fooling everyone around hinlm to truly think on it. A three day search of the wreckage - not that there was much to begin with, having been vaporized by a suspected fuel cell overload - had yielded nothing but Elsa Snowfield's pure unidium sword. Jafar's Inquisitors had conducted the search, and brought it back as evidence of their demise.

Which meant one of two things; either Elsa's excellent piloting skills and Astrid Hofferson's exceptional aim had won them the day…

...or he was being lied to.

"I mean, the idea that the Valkyries destroyed a superior force before they perished, with no bodies to prove their demise, and only the word of a High Inquisitor-to-be to go on strikes me as a little convenient," Kowalski mused, her voice breathy, her eyes calculating

"You think… they had help?" he panted - it was becoming harder and harder to think straight.

"I think no bodies belonging to four Valkyries, and no remains belonging to the Ghosts makes for a… curious notion."

The last thought that went through Hans' mind before a roaring orgasm banished all cognitive thought, coating the moaning Kowalski's face and breasts with his inevitable victory, was that it was definitely worth keeping her around.

And that another plan was needed - but not before fucking the delicious redhead senseless, of course.

* * *

" **From Russia With Love"**

The caves of Siberia were no place for a baby, especially one who had likely inherited Aster's preference for warmer climates. Considering he preferred to walk barefoot - his abnormality liked to destroy footwear through excessive wear - the perpetual Russian winter led him to constantly lament that he couldn't feel his feet. Nicholas loved the cold, but he had kangaroos loose in the top paddock, in Aster's humble opinion.

Still, portable heaters powered by Lumino-Cells did a decent job of making liveable the widespread cave system in which they lived, so there was _that_ at least.

Serena shifted her weight in his tattooed arms, sound asleep, and he dipped his head to marvel at the six week old, his dreadlocks draping down his shoulder. Their miracle baby, a product of the deep love between him and his handfasted wife Thiana "Tooth Fairy" Vaswani. The day she was born was the day Aster swore an oath to make the world a better place for her and her kind to live in.

To keep hope _alive._

He remained there, perched on the edge of their basic, flimsy camp bed, admiring his daughter for several further, happy minutes, until a voice from the small cavern's entrance reached his ears.

"How's she doing?"

It was the voice belonging to the woman who never failed to bring him joy and love, beauty and comfort. He felt the bed dip at his left side, and saw a hand glide across his vision to stroke a single, dainty finger over Serena's temple.

"Little mite's had a big day watching the world go by," Aster cooed. "She's all tuckered out."

He looked over at his wife, whose purple eyes glimmered with motherly warmth. She was as beautiful as the day he first met her; heart-shaped face framed with vibrant yellow, green and blue hair, and fairy-like wings that grew proudly from her shoulders. Fast and fierce in battle, yet gentle and cheerful at home.

She looked up at him, and her cheeks flushed with a visible, shy red. "What?" she asked, smiling awkwardly under his gaze.

"Just counting myself lucky, is all."

Thiana let out an amused giggle, playfully pushing against him with her shoulder, and said, "Damn right. Hope you've still got some of that luck - North just called for a meeting of the Guardians."

Aster's brows knitted together in bewildered confusion. "What, now? We ain't scheduled for another mission yet."

Thiana shrugged, her silent way of saying, " _do I look like a clairvoyant to you?"_ and gestured with her head toward the cavern entrance she'd entered from. Huffing, Aster held the peaceful Serena close to him as he rose to his feet, and a cloud of irritability followed him as he walked behind Thiana to the large cavern in the centre of the sprawling cave system, dim golden lights fixed to the rocky walls leading the way. He'd hoped to be spending a good few days with his family.

The tunnel opened up into the Nexus, the nerve centre of the Resistance, where men and women bustled to and fro, some carrying pre-war firearms or crates of supplies, others holding data crystals or spare parts needed for repairs, a dozen voices all morphing into one background noise. Aster shot a glare at a muscle-bound man with long auburn hair and striking blue eyes for nearly bumping into him on his way past, muttering that "Hercules better look where he's going," after the man blurted a quick apology.

Nicholas St. North, a big, boisterous man with superhuman strength and limitless cheer to match was the first to notice their arrival, leaning over the digitable in the centre of the room. To his left stood the comparatively tiny Sanderson "Sandman" Mansnoozie, a mute warrior with golden sand for weapons - weird as _that_ was, though Aster had to constantly remind himself not to judge - and the serious, dour Li Shang at his right, and up until North had looked up at Aster and Thiana's entry, they'd been deeply focused on some text scrawled on the digitable's surface. Whatever it was gave the mercurial Australian a sinking feeling.

"Bunny! Tooth!" he greeted them, as they stopped a few feet away from the table, prompting Li Shang and Sanderson to glance up. "How is child?"

"Sleeping, and I'll knock out whichever of you lot wakes her up!" Aster snapped.

Nicholas' lips pursed into an O shape, and he leaned down to tap a small red button on the digitable's edge. Aster's vision was immediately flooded with a deep, dim red; the call for top secrecy always came in the form of the wall-mounted lights flashing twice in red, instantly silencing the raucous bustling and causing everyone not called Nicholas St. North, Sanderson Mansnoozie, Li Shang, Thiana Vaswani or Aster Bunnymund to cease their activity and file out of the Nexus. Several seconds of footsteps passed until, mercifully without disturbing Serena's slumber much to Aster's relief, the Nexus emptied itself of all but the Guardians.

Bar one - the woman they'd picked up several years ago off the western coast of Japan. Sat on a crate against the rocky wall far to Li Shang's left, her face dwelling in the shadows cast by the newly-returned dim gold lights, she seemed to be observing the proceedings.

Or she could be asleep, for all Aster knew.

"What's this all about, North?" he asked.

"Is good question, Bunny," Nicholas answered, his thick Russian accent turning his sentence into one the English language would be cringing at, "and one requiring I get down to tacks of brass. Six hours ago, data crystal was left at one of drop points in Kiev. We study it closely, and reach only one conclusion: is from Alliance."

There was a twofold gasp from both Aster and Thiana. "Wait, they-" she began.

Nicholas waved it off. "Do not worry, Thiana. Nearby safehouses have been disavowed. We will not use them again, and will change inter-communications protocols."

Aster exchanged a look with his wife; the idea that the Alliance knew where and how to leave a data crystal for the Resistance to find sent a deep chill through his bones, and caused him to hold Serena a little bit tighter.

It also begged the question:

"So what's on the crystal?" Thiana asked.

"It was a message," Li Shang answered, "from President Frollo himself."

Aster gaped. The most racist, hyper-religious, ruthless man in control of the Alliance - though with the constant arguing of the Senate, that was an impressive feat - sending a message to the very people his soldiers fought? The hell was he playing at?

The chill in his bones grew all the more.

"I have a bad feeling about this, mate," Aster muttered.

"You are not the only one," Li Shang agreed, giving him a grave look, "but once we took the necessary precautions, we listened to the message - and it's bad news. Their spy in the upper echelons of Unity's power structure has been steadily feeding them information for years, now, and according to them we know there's been a change in the key players. Their Supreme Commander and High Inquisitor were murdered a few weeks ago, which means their spy is now in line to take one of their places."

"Which puts them one step below Unifier," Nicholas added. "Most powerful man in Unity. If spy can be manoeuvred into place, Alliance have puppet government sympathetic to its interests."

Aster shot each of them a dumbfounded look, though it was less out of stupidity and more of bewilderment they were even entertaining President Frollo's clandestine schemes. It was like he'd walked into an alternate reality where everyone had taken idiocy pills and slept upside down, and he was the only damn sane person in the damn room.

"So why do we care? The Alliance wanna instigate some coup d'etat, let 'em. Not our problem - but the people like us stuck in the internment camps are."

"I have to agree with my husband," Thiana chimed in, moving close to his side. "I don't see why this is any of our business."

Li Shang's lips curled into a half-smile. Aster _hated_ that, since it usually meant something was going from bad to worse. "This is why," he said, and tapped a button on the hidden side of the table. Four green orbs blinked into life at the four corners of the table, emitting cones of translucent emerald light that met in the dead centre, hovering a foot above the surface. Within the glowing convocation, a large object made of hard light rotated in a leisurely circle - and it didn't take a pilot to understand _what_ it was.

"This," Nicholas gestured at the object, "is called _Hammer of Unity._ Has six heavy pulse cannons, four medium pulse cannons, and energy resistant armor. You recall what we saw in middle of Atlantic, where _Guardian Star_ sailed?"

It would take a miracle to remove the images seared into his memory of corpses floating listlessly on the sea's surface and the wreckage and debris of the once proud aircraft carrier. It was the only time he ever saw Li Shang shed a tear, and the only time Aster ever felt hopelessness - such a loss of life was tragic, and though it was clear a great battle was fought, it only ended in a massacre.

Li Shang added to the heavy sensation weighing Aster's heart. "This was responsible."

Thiana let slip a loud gasp, and Aster felt the familiar rush of air as her wings gave away her reaction, fluttering her into a gentle hover. Casting her a concerned glance, he said, "At the risk of sounding like a broken record, mates, what's that got to do with us?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Li Shang groaned in exasperation. "Everything, Aster. This ship is huge, deadly, and the Alliance believe it was built for one thing, and one thing only - full scale war on Alliance territory. If that thing ever makes landfall, there's no stopping it - and if you think abnormals have it bad this side of the Atlantic? The spy says Unity makes our internment camps look like five-star hotels."

"Li Shang and I-" Nicholas held up his hands as a peacemaking gesture, noticing the look of daggers Aster shot at the Guardians' second-in-command, "-both agree that if Unifier were to launch full-scale offensive with this-" he pointed at the hovering monstrosity, "-as the spearhead, then it would only be matter of weeks before Alliance falls to Unity… and if Alliance falls, _we_ fall."

Aster scoffed, loud enough to disturb the slumbering Serena into issuing a quiet whimper. Quickly sending his arms into a gentle jiggle, he said, "So, what, we've gotta go with the lesser of two pretty fuckin' evil evils?"

Li Shang gave Nicholas a look that screamed " _do we have to?",_ prompting Aster to throw him another death-glare, and the huge man returned Li Shang's expression with an unimpressed eyebrow. "That is what we are saying, Aster," Nicholas said, turning his head to look at him. "If Alliance can manoeuvre spy into Unifier position, then there will be no war - is better to fight one enemy, rather than two. Which is where we come in - as we can get into Unity territory easier than Alliance black ops squads can."

"We're going to assassinate the Unifier," Thiana breathed.

Nicholas clapped two hands together in an uncharacteristically gentle display. "Exactly. I knew you were smartest one in family."

Aster shot a glare at his wife, who merely returned it with a knowing smile.

"So let me get this straight," he said with a brisk cadence, irritation rising by the second, "we're going into a country we don't know, to assassinate a guy who's probably guarded by every soldier and his mother, with no backup and no plan? You've come up with some crazy schemes, North, but this takes the cake."

"Which is why we will need help."

Four pairs of eyes instantly switched to the woman in the shadows, who uncrossed her legs and stood. She took two steps forward, revealing dark brown eyes, black hair, and a face of Chinese ancestry despite speaking with a clearly American accent. Dressed in an all black bodysuit, she stood tall and proud, confident, as befitted an exceptional _jianke -_ her twin _jian_ swords were more than a match for Nicholas' _shashkas._

Aster snorted, shaking his head. "Since when did _we_ need help?"

The woman ignored him, and instead addressed the group, holding her hands behind her back. "I can get us into Unity territory the same way I left, but it's been over six years. Things have probably changed since I've been gone, so we'll need help from people who know the lay of the land." She paused, giving each of them a look… though Aster swore he was the only one who received a glare.

"We will need to find my old team."

Thiana looked puzzled at the notion, like the woman had overlooked something critically important to her plan of action. "Um," she hummed, casting each member a confused look, "you saw the _Star._ How do you know they're still alive?"

The woman gave her a knowing smirk. "Oh, they're alive. If there's anything the Ghosts do best, it's survive. I did lead them, and personally mentored one of them, after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell who it is, yet?
> 
> See you all soon!
> 
> *clicks Completed button*

**Author's Note:**

> For the Ghosts.


End file.
